


Counting on Crossfire

by TheLonelySniper



Series: Counting on Crossfire [1]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Burnie is kinda a dick, F/M, Female Jack, Nobody Is Who They Seem To Be, Not A literal Ghost, There Might Be A Ghost, stop telling everyone I'm dead
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-02
Updated: 2018-12-15
Packaged: 2019-03-25 23:16:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 21
Words: 79,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13845093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLonelySniper/pseuds/TheLonelySniper
Summary: When the Los Santos Police Department offers their youngest rookie the position of head investigator of the Fake A.H Crew case file, you find yourself in something much deeper and more complex than you could have possibly imagined. There's biker gangs, explosions, and a scary looking man in a mask with some serious mental issues. It doesn't help that this rag-tag gang of idiots plan on involving you in something far against your moral codes: helping in "The Ultimate Heist".





	1. The Offer

When the job offer to transfer to the Los Santos Police Department appeared on your desk, you were stunned. The letter came just after the one-year anniversary of when you first began an internship with your states’ local police department. Your boss and coworkers shared your excitement and encouraged you to take the offer, knowing full and well your passion for the force and what it stood for. The ride alongs, the people, and most of all, the knowledge that you were making a difference in the community. You loved all these things. This would be your chance to stretch out your hand to the place that needed it the most.

By going to the crime capital of the United States.

Okay, that last part may have been a slight oversight…A full night of researching the state told you every single possible reason why you shouldn’t go there. But you were always known to be the stubborn one of the family. Sure, the risks of being a new officer in a city overrun by crime since it practically opened wasn’t great, and sure, the fact that officers were always in serious danger from the prominent gangs there wasn’t desirable, but this was an opportunity you didn’t want to miss. You saw it as your chance to start a change.

Of course when your family caught wind of this, they insisted you stay, going as far as threatening to disown you. But when they realized you were set in leaving, they held a small send-off party and carried on about how much they loved you and would miss you. Needless to say, you had never seen your father cry like that before. It was nerve-racking considering he was the one who had to drive you to the airport too. 

Then again, it was understandable why they didn’t want you to leave. After what happened to your older brother, you honestly didn’t blame them. But this would be different. You would come home just fine. 

As your plane begins to take off, you wave out the window to your father inside the airport. Granted, you couldn’t actually see him, but it still felt right to do so. You were going to miss everyone. 

“Everything is falling into place,” you tell yourself as you shut the window blind, “Something big and exciting is going to happen.”

You didn’t realize how true those words were about to become.

***

It’s been a little over seven months and after the countless number of close-call drug raids, shootouts, and hijackings, you quickly realized the true reason why you got the job offer when you did. 

Dozens of police officers were being killed off each week and that was leaving plenty of room for new recruits to jump in and take over… only to end up like their past coworkers. 

It wasn’t that the officers were stupid- in your opinion- they were just extremely under experienced. The LSPD was never known for having the best training offered to its employees. Funding was severely limited thanks to the government. What could be spent on hiring trained professionals to come in and teach weapons and situational classes was instead spent on buying the mayor the newest line of sports cars or for advertising for tourists to come visit the all pricey dress shops Los Santos had to offer. 

Which meant, unfortunately, you were stuck in the endless loop of working with the bare minimum. 

It wasn't too bad depending on which jurisdiction you worked out of. There were three of them: Los Santos City, Los Santos County, and then Blaine County. The heart of the city was the most favored by the department. It took up the entire area from the airport and docks to just about where the city stopped and the suburbs began. The city was reasonably silent almost all of the time. Then there would be that incredible instance of pure chaos before it quickly turned back to silence again. It was too bad it was also the area where the LSDP were known to lose most of its members.

Los Santos County was slightly different. Here, officers mainly deal with property offences and car jackings. It’s territory spanned over the outskirts of the city and into the rolling hills of subdivisions all the way up to the county line next to the prison. It dabbled in smaller scale crimes that, for the most part, seemed like child’s play when compared to Blaine County. 

This was easily your least favorite district. Most run-ins and calls from Blaine County were for major drug deals and mass weapon exchanges. Violence here was as common as finding a nude beachgoer on Vespucci Beach. It's almost like criminals went up there for the weekends to destroy whatever they could get their hands on before returning to the city with every stolen good imaginable. It made you sick to your stomach and your blood boil when most of the offenders got away with it too. 

But you have to remind yourself that you don’t work from there. It wasn’t your problem. No, you were happy in your little district of La Mesa. Quiet, quaint, and cute. Not to mention your boss was attractive as hell. It had its ups and downs but you’ve pushed through the harder days and already managed to make a name for yourself.

It wasn’t easy and you found yourself being burned out more than you may have liked to admit. But with the influx of money from tourists who hear that LS is getting cleaned up, it made the days seem a little more worth it…

***

Friday mornings in Los Santos were just like any other: hot and dry. Yet this Friday morning in particular, you felt nothing but cold. You were waiting outside the La Mesa Police Station with a thin frown lining your lips. In the passenger seat, your phone had a text message pulled up from your boss from earlier that morning. He had told you to come in before your shift today- the two of you needed to have a talk. 

So here you were, dressed in full uniform with your fists clenched so tightly to the steering wheel they might as well have been glued to it. You stare at the front doors of the station, the pit of nervousness growing larger in your stomach as the seconds tick by. What could he possibly want to talk about to make him have to be so secretive about it?

The clock on the dashboard flipped to double ones and zeros. You couldn’t wait any longer. It was time to face the music. 

“Here we go.” You mutter, unclicking your seatbelt and pushing open the cruiser door.

The heat outside instantly wrapped itself around you, clinging to your skin and clothes, practically to the point of suffocation but you paid no mind. This was normal. Crossing the sidewalk, you make your way up the stairs and into the building. The AC is a short relief as were the familiar voices of some of your coworkers who greeted you as you walked in. You send a cheery smile and a nod of acknowledgment to the group as you pass. Once you were out of their line of sight however, the smile disappears. 

As you pass into the back corridor, your pace slows and you approach the end of the hallway. The large oak door to your boss’s office stands firm. Growing closer, you notice that it’s cracked slightly open. Inside there’s the sound of shuffling papers and a muffled yet familiar voice talking. You lean in to listen. 

“…-She’s a perfect match for the position. I know she can do this.” A pause. “Yes, I am aware of that-”. Another pause. Then, “Yes, sir. I will- Yes, I’m meeting with her in just a few minutes.” 

Whoever your chief was talking to, they seemed to be making him a little agitated. You glance around to see if anyone is watching before leaning in a little closer, hair brushing the panel of the door. 

“Burns, you know just as well as I do that they aren’t going to be stopping anytime soon. This is a once in a million shot to take them down and I plan on taking it.” The sound of a chair squeaking and a sudden thud made you flinch. His voice turns hard. 

“Whether you like it or not, the paperwork has already been done and approved. She will report to you and you will treat her with the highest form of dignity and respect. You will let her have control of the investigation and listen to what she tells you. Do I make myself clear?”

There’s a long pause. Finally, you hear a resigned sigh. 

“Thank you. I’ll be sending a copy of the transfer papers this afternoon. And Burnie?” His voice lowered, “If I find out you let me down on this…” 

You couldn’t make out the rest of what was said but judging by the silence afterword, you guessed it must’ve been an effective threat. There’s the soft click of a phone meeting the receiver. 

“I can see your shadow. I know you’re out there, (L/N). Get in here.”

You retch away from the door, feeling heat rise to your cheeks. You probably looked like a kid who got caught with their hand in the cookie jar. Straightening your posture and taking a quick breath to compose yourself, you push open the door and look inside. 

The office is in almost complete disarray. Papers are stacked in feet on the floor. Manila folders lined the chestnut colored desk and reports were sticking out of the filing cabinets like weeds. You eye your boss, Chief Matt Hullum. He is sitting behind his desk in his office chair, eyes burning up at yours.

His appearance surprises you. His usually lively eyes were now spotted with weariness. His tie was loosened and his hair looked as if it had been run through one too many times. You move cautiously into the room.

“I apologize for loitering, sir. I heard you talking and didn’t know if you had company.” 

He waves off the apology and motions for you to take a seat.

“Don’t worry, I’m not upset.” He sits up and adjusts the sleeves of his suit. “I appreciate you coming in earlier than you were scheduled to today. Due to some recent events, I thought it would be best that we have a little talk concerning your-,” his hand fumbled in the air while he searched for a word, “placement in the LSPD.”

The dread from before returned and you feel sick. Your chest tightens as your mind raced to figure out what he meant by that. You weren’t being fired, were you? 

Matt takes notice of your distress and the corner of his lip twitched upwards in amusement. 

“You’re not being let go if that’s what you’re thinking. In fact,” he watches your expression carefully, “I wanted to discuss the subject of an opening in our special division unit.”

“Like…a promotion, sir?” You ask, slow and quizzical. You were getting another promotion within the span of months from the last one? Why? 

Matt nods, “Officer (L/N), how long have you been here again?”

“Seven months, sir.” 

“Seven months almost to the day, right?” He meant it as a rhetorical question but you humor him by mumbling out a yes. 

“Then I would assume that you know how desperate the need for good cops here is.” His voice deepens as he takes to a more serious tone. “You have made a remarkable impact on this city, (L/N). Two or three arrests each week, always on top of reports, and using logic whenever possible to defuse situations before they escalate. I honestly wish I had more officers like you.” 

He seemed to be waiting for a reply so you thank him quietly. He continues,

“The director and I have been discussing your talents and where they would best fit Los Santos and we believe we’ve found the right spot for you.” He pulls a manila folder out from under the stack and slides it across the table. When you don’t immediately reach for it he tips his head for you to take it. 

Carefully, you pick it up and open it. The first thing that draws your attention is a collection of sketches clipped to one side. An assortment of six faces. Eyebrows drawn together in a studying manner, you examine each face- the last one especially catching your eye. Unlike the singular photos of the others, this one was split into two, one of a person wearing a skull mask and on the other was a drawing of what the wearer was perceived to look like. Your eyes drift to the other side of the folder, then along the edge, noting how many reports, pictures, and documents rested inside of it. 

“Go on.” You mummer, intrigued. Matt rises his chin as he leans back in his chair.

“I’m sure you’ve heard of the Fake A.H. Crew by now. They’ve been residing in Los Santos for years, well before I was even a Lieutenant. They’re a gang renowned for murder, grand theft auto, armed robbery, reckless endangerment- you name it. We’ve lost so many good officers trying to detain them and stop these assaults but they’ve always been one step ahead. However, as of late, their heists and movements have been getting sloppy and we feel it’s best to jump on it while we have the chance. That’s where you come in.”

You look up from a report describing an armed robbery at a bar house in the Blaine County district. “Me?”

Matt bent slightly forward. “We want you to lead the investigation on the Fake AH Crew.”

Your heart stops. Everything around you seems to slow down as you try to grasp onto what was just said. You, a rookie of less than a year, were being chosen to lead an investigation on one of the deadliest, most unpredictable group of psychopaths in the county? You can’t help but listen further in silent bewilderment.

“We’re transferring you to the metro-unit in the city. Chief Burns will be your new boss. Your job is to find anything you can about these assholes. Get their information; Safe houses, main locations, warehouses- wherever they might be setting up operations from. Look for financial statements, possible accomplices, patterns in their routines, exedra. Pretty much, just find out what you can and report it to Chief Burns. He’ll figure out what the next step should be. As for boarding, an apartment has already been rented and the expenses will be payed for by the department.” His eyes softened. “It’s the least we can do if it means getting a step closer to taking down this gang of idiots.”

His tone abruptly shifts and his eyes narrow a fraction. “Though, lately we’ve been running into some trouble. Burns hasn’t been taking this investigation as seriously as we would like. He’s been trying to turn down the investigation since it was brought to him a few days ago. For this all to work, we’re going to need some cooperation from his side. But if it turns into a situation you can’t handle, please call me and I’ll get it sorted out.” 

You glance down at the folder then look back up to meet his eyes again. “When is the transfer supposed to happen by?”

“Monday. You’ll have the weekend to move and get settled.”

Your mouth falls open and you gape at him in shock! “Monday? As in this upcoming Monday?”

“I do apologize for springing it on you so suddenly.”

You sit in your chair, hands tense in your lap. An overwhelming rush of stress and anxiety wash over your body and you blink, feeling lightheaded. “Sir…I don’t-…I don’t know if I can do this! I can’t just pick up everything and move at the drop of a hat! I think I need equivalent that much time to let this soak in. I’m going to need more time to consider before I accept.”

“We’re low on time as it is.” He presses in a low, husky tone. “(L/N), I probably shouldn’t be the one to remind you this but…isn’t it your dream to take over as chief of the LS police force? What better way to prove yourself than to be the one who helps bring down these criminals?”

He wasn’t wrong. It was your dream. You had studied all throughout college to get a bachelor’s degree in criminal justice with the hope that one day you would lead a force of your own. But all those years of studying and all-nighters and training could not have prepared you for something as extreme as this.

You can only stare, tongue-tied as Matt stands to his feet and walks around the desk to you. Offering a hand, his steel-blue eyes met yours in a firm but hopeful gaze. You hesitantly take his hand and stand as well, forcing yourself to ignore the butterflies inside your stomach as your fingers linger together.

“I know you can do this, (L/N). You’ve got the training and you’ve got the intelligence. We wouldn’t have chosen you if we didn’t believe you could do it.”

You didn’t respond. Matt notices your continuing hesitation and glances around as if looking for some way to convince you. His face suddenly brightens and a full smile runs over his lips.

“Why don’t I show you the apartment? You can get a feel for it and decide once we get there whether or not it’s for you. Yeah?”

Why did he think seeing the apartment was going to change your mind? Your apartment now was just fine; a one bed studio with a full kitchen and bath. That itself was hard enough to find- much less afford around here. Besides, with how much the department got paid, the likelihood this apartment would be worthwhile was rather low. 

But nonetheless, you ultimately decide to give it a chance. It might not benefit you but it couldn’t hurt either. Plus, it would mean some alone time, off-work with Matt. Feeling slightly less uneasy, you manage a shaky nod. “I think I can handle that. As long as there’s no promises of commitment just yet.”

Matt shows his teeth in a smile of approval. He moves his hand to your shoulder. “Wonderful! I can take you there just after six today. I’ll meet you here and drive us over. Does that work?” 

You mentally revise your schedule before nodding in confirmation. “Yeah, that’ll work great.”

“I look forward to it. If you have any questions regarding the terms of the investigation, please feel free to call me. Other than that, I’ll see you here around six.” 

With a curt nod of farewell, you excuse yourself from the room. Heart pounding in your chest, you check the time on your watch. It was still about a half hour before your shift would began. Enough time to run down to the bridge, calculating a short five minute drive there and back of course. 

After a quick glance over your shoulder, you leave the building with an eager tension in your chest and your cell phone ready in your hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! So I'm going to try to be uploading on a weekly basis, mainly Thursdays. However, with being in college and all, it is likely I will fall behind or put out more chapters all at once at certain periods. If this happens, I will do my best to let you know. I really appreciate you reading my story so shout out to you. Have a great day and here's wishing it's full of Rooster Teeth and Achievement Hunter.


	2. The Most Trusted Contact

The storm drain wasn’t your favorite place to meet him. Too open. Too many chances you could be seen or recognized and boom. Your cover was blown. Sure it highly unlikely anyone would be hanging around these parts, but that itself wasn't enough to ease your nerves. You hadn't exactly made the best impression on the Los Santos underground network and the thought sent chills down your spine. In this city where nothing is as it seems to be, anyone could be watching. 

But despite all that, this was the only place the two of you could meet on such short notice.

You were already out of your patrol car and resting against the hood when your phone buzzed to alert a new message. You scan the screen, reading the words in the text bubble. He was on his way.

For a moment you stop to wonder how he will take the news. The two of you had been partners for a majority of the time you had been in LS. In fact, he was the one who offered to be partners in the first place. 

A cop and a drug dealer. The perfect team.

The thought makes you chuckle.

“Something funny?” A voice suddenly asks behind you.

You tense, hand jerking toward your hostler reflexively. But your mind quickly registers who it is and you force yourself to relax, sending a small smile over your shoulder. “Oh, I was just recalling the first time we met, actually.”

“Oh yeah, great times.” He replies sarcastically, “I loved the part when you practically snapped my neck while I was working.”

You scoff, pretending to be offended. “Firstly, you were resisting arrest. Second, you were blazed the hell out and swinging a machete around a thrift store. You honestly expect me to believe that’s your version of working?”

It was his turn to chuckle. “I do.”

The man walks over and sits down beside you on the hood of the cruiser. Even sitting, he was still easily a few inches taller. His chocolate brown eyes held the same playful intensity as the day you first met and his messy dark brown hair hung low, almost touching his shoulders. As you study him, you notice that his clothes looked more expensive than usual and it makes you wonder if he recently came into some money. 

When he catches you staring, he sends a cheeky grin, “Found ‘em.”

For some reason, you didn’t believe that.

A moment of easy silence passes between you two. In the distance you could hear the morning traffic echoing against the walls of the storm drain. A train roared down the tracks somewhere not too far from where you sat. 

It’s now or never.

You take your sunglasses off your head and toss them beside you on the hood with a sigh. He looks at you, eyebrow raised in interest.

”I’m going to guess you’re not here for a social visit then.” He jokes. 

You throw him a look, “I need to talk to you. It’s important.”

Something about the way you said it made him straighten. His expression turns serious and he nods for you to continue. You take a deep breath.

“I was asked to take an assignment today…and I don’t know if I can do it.”

Immediately a smile cracks on his face, “Is it to blow your chief? Cause the way you talk about him all the time makes me think neither one of you would mind it-”.

“Rust!” You hiss, not in the mood to discuss the somewhat crush you had on your boss right now.

He laughs. “Right, sorry, let me guess. They want you to stake out the strip club and you’re afraid to go in alone. Don’t worry, I’ll gladly go and keep you company-”

“Rust, they want me to investigate the Fake A.H Crew.”

The air instantly became thick. You watch the color drain from his face. His jaw clenches and his eyes narrow. They darken to the point that you can’t tell what he's thinking anymore. All playfulness was gone. 

When he catches you staring at him in concern, he turns to hide his face. Almost a whole minute passes before he jumps off the hood and takes a few steps away. It was obvious that he was trying not to let you see how badly those words affected him. But even with his back to you, you could see how stiff his body was through his thin clothes. Nobody said a word.

Yes, you were already aware of the rough history that he, Rusty, as he liked to be called, shared with the Fakes a long time ago. Even though most details were unclear, he did say that he got away when he could. There was a chance for escape and he took it. Information was difficult to obtain but you assumed it must have been pretty serious in order for him to fake his death, so you just left it alone.

Finally, a few seconds later Rusty turns back to face you. His cheeks are flushed red and his hands are tight in fists. His eyes remain on the ground as he speaks,

“You said you were offered the assignment. As in you didn’t take it yet?”

You nod.

“Good. Listen to me when I say to stay the hell away from them. Those guys are nothing but trouble. You’re going to march back down to that office of yours and decline the offer-”

“What? Wait, no I can’t do that-”

“And why not?”

You’re taken aback by the sudden malice in his tone and try to explain the offer to him in better detail. You add how it was technically a promotion to detective, one step closer to Chief, and all you had to do was find information on them. It wasn’t like you were going after them one-on-one.

He stays silent, crossing his arms and analyzing every word. When you finish, his eyes flash up to meet yours. They were wild, a mixture of pure anger and fear. 

“If you take this offer, we're through.”

You’re caught by surprise. Rusty would never say something like that unless he really meant it. And he was doing it now all because you brought up the Fakes? Just what did they do to him that, even at the bare mention of their name, sent him into such a rage? 

You stand to your feet uneasily, resting a hand on your hip, “Oh come on, Rust, don’t be like that. You’ve dealt with these people before, right?”

“Watch it, (F/N).” He warns.

“They’ve hurt hundreds, if not thousands of people over the years! Including you! We’ve got to stick together-”

Rusty suddenly lurched forward, hand whipping out and grabbing your arm tightly, “If we stick together, we’re both going to die!” 

Without taking a second to register what you’re doing, your training kicks in. You rip away from his grip and place both hands squarely on his shoulders, pushing him back hard. He hits the ground but before he could react, you’re already mounted on top of him, knees digging into his sides and hands stressing his arm back between his shoulder blades. 

His yelps out in pain snap you back to reality. Switching out of officer mode, you quickly roll off him, spouting out apology after apology as you stand and back up a few steps to make distance. What the hell? Did you seriously just do that?! 

As if to parrot your thoughts, Rusty pushes himself up on one knee and shoots out a chilling look from under his mangled bangs. He silently moves back up on to his feet and straightens. 

“You want to get involved? Fine,” he mutters, adding to your shock, “But know who you’re dealing with first. Those guys? They’re monsters. They will figure out who you are, where you live, and have already picked out which bullet to put through your brain the second you take this case.”

“Then isn’t that all the more reason to team up and stop them?” You timidly ask, unsure why he wasn’t reacting like you would’ve expected.

His expression turns to disbelief and his voice lowers to a whisper, “After everything we’ve done- after you team up with me, trust me with your life and mine with yours- it’s as if you don’t believe me on this...” He takes a deep breath and shakes his head, “I don’t want to do this anymore. I’m out.” 

With a turn of the heels, he starts walking back the way he came, through an abandoned train tunnel behind you. He waves a finger over his head as he leaves, “Later, man. Been real.”

Your mind races. These reactions of his were not normal. Rusty wasn’t the type of guy to jump straight to anger. And the more you stand there watching him go, not doing anything to stop him, the more furious you grew. Not just at yourself, but him as well. As he reaches the mouth of the tunnel, you hit your tipping point and take a few careless steps after him.

“What are you so afraid of?” You seethe, “It’s just an investigation! One you’re not even apart of!” 

Rusty stops midstride, whirling around to eye you over in shock, “Not apart of? Seriously? We’re partners, (F/N)! We have been since the beginning! I’m in this as much as you are!”

“Well maybe if you weren’t so set in being a criminal, you could actually join me and help change this city for the better!”

“Jesus, this isn’t about that! And you know what? I actually did think you could make a difference here but now I’ve changed my mind. Everyone knows this city isn’t meant to be changed. Hell, you can be a cop- a lieutenant- a chief! Nobody gives a fuck. But you? You’re just some- some dumb bitch who can’t even track down criminals without help! The only reason you’ve been able to get this far is because of me!”

There was a long silence. 

His face falls once he sees his words strike you. His mouth tightens and his eyes soften behind his glasses, “Oh come on (F/N)-Don’t you dare…You’ve got to be kidding me.”

You don’t move to wipe the hot tear that streams down your cheek. Damn, the boy hits hard doesn’t he? White appears on your knuckles as your fists clench tightly together. You don’t speak.

Rusty heaves a sigh, regretfully scratching the back of his neck and begins to walk back to you. He stops just short of your reach and a look passes over him.

“I...I’m not afraid,” he starts, “I’m worried. Not just for my sake but yours as well-” 

“I don’t need your charity anymore. Go back to your train tunnel, jackass.” You growl.

A brief smirk crosses his features, “Oh don’t be like that. I’m telling you the truth. This isn’t a game. It’s not a movie - this is serious. With these guys, you’d be battling demons you didn’t know could exist.” He pauses before adding with a sheepish grin, “Granted, they’re the stupidest demons to ever exist but that doesn’t make them any less dangerous.”

When you still don’t respond, he glances around for a moment as if searching for something. Then you feel warmth against your palms. Your eyes flash to his and you freeze. Rusty gazes down at you, a sincere expression.

“As stupid as it sounds, I don’t need you to get hurt. I’ve witnessed the Fakes do some pretty fucking messed up shit and the last thing I need is for you to get wrapped up in it as well.”

He guides you back to your cruiser, hands still entwined, and leans against it. His next words surprise you.

“Look (F/N), I know you can do it. You’re not dumb. In fact, you’re remarkably talented and intelligent and I-”

“High.” You interrupt, wiping your face with one of your hands.

“Excuse me?”

You turn to meet his questioning expression, a small grin making its way back to your lips. “You. You must be high if you’re actually being nice to me.”

For a moment he didn’t respond. But a smile quickly broke out on his face as well.

“Maybe a little.” He admits. You snort and playfully slap his arm, him laughing at your reaction.

Taking your hands away, you move to touch shoulders against him instead, feeling a sense of relief and calmness fall over you. Judging by the way he relaxed into it, he felt it too.

“Rust, I’m sorry for earlier.” You begin quietly, “You have every right to be mad at me. I knew the news would be hard for you and still got mad when you didn’t support it. Besides, you have a good point. I’m probably in way over my head here. Doing my patrol job has been going great and I’m sure another promotion will come soon. It’s probably best that I don’t take this job.”

He sighs, “Well...don’t say that just yet. If anything, take the assignment, take the money, and give them fake info and shit. You could write up anything you want and they’d be none the wiser.”

“What? Are you serious?”

“I’m as serious as ever. But do whatever you want, it’s up to you. I’ll be here to help... Somehow.”

You stand back to look up at him in disbelief only to see him smiling down at you. A slow smile begins to form on your lips and you sneer, reaching up and playfully messing up his hair. He lets out a cry of protest and ducks away, both of you giggling like kids. After you finish laughing, he returns next to you and you stand in silence for the next few minutes before it was time to start your shift. 

Before you started up the cruiser to leave, he gave you a list with some names and locations. It was your typical routine. He gives you a list of some of his debtors and enemies and you go out and arrest them. You both get to reap the benefits- him getting guys off his back and you with the acknowledgment of your peers and the highest arrest rate in the district.

As you approached the station to clock in, a thought crosses your mind. 

Maybe the apartment tonight won’t be as spectacular as Matt’s making it out to be. Maybe it would be easy to say no the moment you got there...

You were wrong. Oh boy were you wrong.


	3. The New Apartment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Been working on this chapter for probably six hours now so hopefully it's up to par. There shouldn't be any grammar mistakes as far as I can tell but then again I'm running on almost no sleep so...I'll check it tomorrow and make any needed edits. Until then, enjoy a little Matt x Reader time!

The sun was beginning to descend over the city by the time your shift ended. Orange and red rays appear along the tips of the horizon and people were starting to head home or to bars or wherever they planned on spending the evening. Cars were filtering out as the nightlife of Los Santos was about to begin.

Matt locked his office door and guided you outside to the back parking lot. Making small talk, the two of you walk over to his personal patrol car, an unmarked vapid interceptor. The outside had been recently washed and, as Matt opened the car door for you, you could pick up the faint new car smell that lingered inside. You weren’t too surprised. The man took great care of his equipment, spare when it came to his office space. Which wasn’t a bad thing. In fact, he was practically beaming with pride when you complimented how nice the car looked as you climbed into the passenger seat. 

Once he began driving, Matt held most of the conversation, talking about the work he had done that day, interesting cases that had been reported, and the whatnot. It was nice. It didn’t hurt that all the meanwhile he talked, you were able to spare some sideways glances at him. He certainly looked much more put together now than he did a few hours ago. His hair was brushed through and you could even pick up the subtle scent of freshly applied cologne. It sent your stomach tingling with butterflies. Everything felt… strangely right.

After a while, he stopped talking and the car fell into a comfortable silence. You took to looking out the window, watching the scenery as it passed by. The sight of the towering buildings and bustling sidewalks fill you with a certain type of excitement. Sure, you went into the city as often as the next guy but that doesn’t mean it didn’t have its own unique charm. 

At one point however, your gaze wanders back over to the male seated next to you. It was then that you notice the silver piece of metal and you’re slammed by a wave of surprise. No way… You blink a few times as if to do a double take. 

Nope, it was still there.

You stare wide eyed at the silver wedding band around his finger. Matt had never mentioned being married before. In fact, you weren’t sure anybody had mentioned it before. Had the ring always there? 

No. You would’ve noticed. 

So then, he must’ve just put it on recently. You think back to earlier in his office. He hadn’t been wearing it then, you were sure of it. Well perhaps it was just a regular ring? Men do that kind of thing, right?

The idea was wishful thinking, and you knew that, but then again it would make you feel a whole lot better to think it was a regular ring than to know you’ve been crushing on a married man. Would it be against code to ask him about it-?

“We’re here!” Matt suddenly called, startling you out of your thoughts. You could practically feel the excitement in his voice. Deciding to return to the ring matter some other time, you turn to look out the window.

You were wrong. Oh boy were you wrong.

You gap up at the towering apartment building. The words “Eclipse Towers” were written in slender, white letters above the door. You had seen apartments here listed for sale when you first moved down to LS, but quickly realized they were way outside your price range- one apartment going for over a million dollars. 

_Only an idiot would live in a place that expensive_ , you had thought before. Yet here you sat now. About to go inside and see your potential new home.

The car slows long enough for you to eye over the front before Matt pulls into the parking lot in the back. 

He slips the interceptor into a parking space and switches off the engine. After a moment, the two of you climb out and you throw him a look.

“Are you sure we’re at the right place, sir?”

He laughs.

Together, you walk along the sidewalk to the tinted glass front doors. Matt steps over to a black box and scans some sort of key card. You hear the door give a small click and he pushes it open, gesturing for you to go first. With a nod of thanks, you move into the building.

Marble floors, a high ceiling, and sleek wooden walls. Three chandeliers hung overhead, glistening and spreading their rays across the open room. A white couch and glossy table that looked barely used rested in a small nook to your right. To the left, an enormous rock on display. 

First impression?

Holy shit.

Abort.

_Abort_

The overwhelming posh atmosphere sent chills down your spine. You could only imagine the type of room the department managed to get here. And how much it must cost. A wave of sudden anxiety came crashing over you. How could you possibly tell Matt no to the apartment now? You knew deep inside you weren't supposed to be here, much less live here! You didn’t belong somewhere this fancy...

A hand falls softly on your shoulder. 

“I know what you’re thinking,” Matt mummers quietly, “It can be a little intimidating at first, but trust me. You’ll warm up to it in no time.” 

He gives a reassuring pat on your back before walking forward to the elevators on the other side of the lobby. His action helped ease some of the nerves but not enough to make you completely okay with all this. Yet, with another quick peek around, you follow after him close behind.

Once you step inside the elevator, Matt presses the button second from the top and the doors close.

You remain quiet, feeling your heartbeat quicken as the elevator began to rocket upwards. Should you tell him you had a maybe not-so-great fear of heights? Swallowing hard, you decide to wait. Maybe you weren’t going to be **that** high. And if you were, you could always cover the windows with drapes?

_Whoa whoa whoa, slow down there cowboy_ , you think as you quickly wave off the thoughts. Whatever you choose wasn’t important right now. You still weren’t sure whether you would even take the offer. You suck in a breath, trying to distract yourself by staring at the ground.

The elevator dinged and the doors squeaked opened. That was fast. You hadn't even realized how quickly it had shot up to your floor. Peeking out from the opening, you see a long hallway stretched out before you. With a slight nudge from behind, you step out, noting the emergency stairs immediately to your left. Beyond that? Just walls. 

You tilt your head. Where were the apartment doors?

Matt moves past and begins to guide you down the hall. 

He eventually stops outside a thick wooden door near the end of the hallway. You look around. There were only two other doors you passed, and one more lay across from yours. Strange. Only four rooms on one floor? How big could the apartments possibly be? The sound of keys jingling and the metal lock of a door clicking open catch your attention.

Matt turns to you, a grin already plastered on his face. “Ready?” After you nod, he reaches inside the doorway and flicks on a light.

You peer inside. And your mouth drops to the floor. 

No wonder he wanted you to look at the apartment so bad.

Your legs move by themselves as you cross into the threshold. A dining area, full kitchen, and beyond that a living room complete with a modern-looking fireplace. Furniture was already in position and ready for use. A set of stairs waited to the back left of the living room and it only made you feel more overwhelmed to know there was a second story to this place. Your gaze follows to the kitchen on your right and you lean down to open one of the cabinets. It was already fully stocked with pots and pans and such. Your stomach tightens. They really spared no expense did they…

“Incredible…” Is all you can manage out.

Matt walks up beside you and tosses his car keys as well as the room key on the marble countertop. He gestures to the apartment.

“Well? What do you think? Pretty good first impression, right?”

“It’s unbelievable, honestly.” You mutter, standing to your feet, “All this…it’s so much to take in and-and you said it would all be mine?”

The side of his lips drew upward as if to say _I told you so_. And you might’ve been more annoyed with it if he hadn't looked so handsome doing it. If anything, you were becoming much more overwhelmed than when this trip began. 

Matt moves so he stands beside the counter and you sit down on one of the bar stools beside him. 

“One of the owners of the building owes me a favor,” he explains, “This was the only empty room they could give me on such short notice. But if you don’t like it I guess we could always wait until another room opens up?”

He was testing you.

“No, it’s alright! I like this one!” You blurt a little too enthusiastically for someone who insisted on thinking the move and job over before taking it. You quickly put a hand to your mouth to stop yourself. Then once you regain your composure, you squint. “But there’s no way there’s not a catch for getting this place.”

“Huh? What makes you say that?”

You give him a look and he rubs the back of his neck with a nervous chuckle, “You aren’t my best officer for no reason…”

Matt leans his elbows on the counter. His demeanor shifts and he looks uncomfortable. 

“I won’t say the acquirement of this place didn’t come with a small snag. While the department can pay for your rent and a few other things, we cannot let you be here exclusively free. You’ll still have to pay for the regular bills aside from rent, like the water, gas, and electricity. It may not seem ideal, but it’s what we worked out.”

“And how much do you think it’ll cost? Together, I mean.”

“If you keep it to a minimum or at the very least keep it moderate, the expenses should only get to around maybe eight hundred a month.”

This would be the perfect moment for a spit take.

“Eight hundred dollars! A month?!”

“I know it’s a lot to ask for.”

You put a hand to your forehead. A headache was coming on. Not counting rent and it was still almost a thousand dollars a month? How would you manage to pay that much every month? Eight hundred was a good chunk of your paycheck and you would still have to pay for gas for the cruiser, food, and other things on top of that.

Matt moves closer to you, putting a reassuring hand on yours, squeezing his palm against the back of your hand. The sudden warmth sends another chill down your spine and you struggle to hide the flustered blush rising to your cheeks. He offers a hopeful smile.

“Once the whole Fake A.H Crew case is solved and we’re able to make an arrest, you’ll receive a considerable bonus for your hard work. With that, you can continue living here without worry.”

“Is that your nice way of saying if I don’t manage to scope them out I’ll get kicked out?”

He takes offence to your words, “This is a great opportunity, (Y/N)! Not just for you but for all your coworkers- you friends- every citizen in Los Santos. If we can get these dangerous felons off the street, think about how much safer the city will be.” He pulls away, suddenly chuckling. “Remember when you came in for your interview with the LSPD?”

“I would rather not...” 

“I was your interviewer and when I asked why you were here, why you wanted to join, you said, “I’m the one who’s going to change this city.” Those were the first words out of your mouth. The very first things you told me.”

You turn your head to cover the embarrassed blush rising to your cheeks. Geez he didn’t have to bring that up. Looking back on it you must’ve looked like a total dork…

Matt puts his hands squarely on the table and gazes down at them thoughtfully. “I know this offer might sound scary. I mean, a whole new branch of work, the short amount of time to decide? The anxiety you must feel with having to start somewhere entirely new- I understand that.” He turns to you. “But you’ve always excelled despite all that. Please, (F/N). I’m asking you to seriously consider this.” 

The hope in his eyes…The way he was sending that pleading look at you sent a burning sensation through your chest. You were melting under his gaze. Sucking in a breath and taking another long look around the room, you finally come to a decision.

You prayed you wouldn’t regret this.

“I’ll take it.”

“...What?” he blinked hard as if he didn’t hear you right. You repeat yourself a little louder.

“You will? I mean- you will!” Matt gives your hand a squeeze. “It’s decided then! You are now the head of the Fake A.H Crew Investigation.”

You give him jazz hands with a shy laugh. He pulls away and stands straighter, pridefully beaming at you.

“To commemorate this, I would like to invite you out for drinks.”

“What? Oh- um actually I don’t drink, sir.” You said quickly. The offer startled you and the last thing you wanted to do was go out for drinks with your boss, who was also your crush, who was _also_ a potentially married man… Even if it was to congratulate a promotion.

His eyebrows rose a fraction with interest and he glanced around, shifting his posture before settling his gaze back on you. His beaming smile was now only a small, hopeful grin.

“Then let me at least take you out for dinner.”

“I’m not hungry.”

Matt hesitates, measuring you. His smile has completely disappeared. “(Y/N), is there a reason you don’t want to go out with me?”

You felt your chest tighten and the fluttering feeling reappeared in your stomach. Why did he have to phrase it like that? You simply shrug a reply.

An odd sense of disappointment rolls off him and you see him nodded curtly. Without a word, he turns and picks up the keys from the table and holds out the key card. “Here’s the key for the room. You have to contact the number on the back before you move in so they can give you a code to link it with your garage unit.”

You take the card regretfully, noticing how his tone fell. A twinge of guilt was setting in. Maybe one drink couldn’t hurt? You have been clean for a few months now and it was unlikely you’d fall back into the habit from one drink, right?

Swallowing hard and ignoring your mind screaming at you not to, you brush a stay hair from your face and force a smile. “You know what, I will take that drink actually.” You quickly add, “If that’s okay, sir.”

***

The place Matt chose seemed to follow the trend today. It was an eloquent tavern with towering white columns framing the double doors in the front. It was clean, border lining spotless, and the people who walked in and out were sporting suits and outfits meant for the strictly professional. They sent some unfriendly looks in your direction when they notice the two of you approach. 

The feeling of their burning stares made you want to hide behind Matt. As courageous as you were, dealing with the attractive and wealthy of Los Santos was not on your top ten list of fun things to do. God knows how many of them came into their money not so legally here. Plus, as a police officer, they weren't too accepting of your presence. Nonetheless, and even though the two of you stood out like sore thumbs, Matt didn’t seem to notice the looks. That, or he didn’t care.

The tavern had been recently modernized out of an old theater, Matt explains you as you walk in. He points out the stained wood on the ceiling and says how the wood used to be apart of the stage before it had been torn down. The company figured it would be cheaper to repurpose than to throw it away. Besides, he said, it adds to the charm of the place. You nod in agreeance.

The two of you settled at the bar table, him ordering a simple pißwasser and you ordering some fruity drink. The bartender filled up the glasses and before long you and Matt were laughing, chatting away and enjoying each other’s company. The drinks kept coming and you let yourself unwind, him doing the same. After about two hours, the unspoken message of “It’s getting late and I should probably start heading home” hung in the air and the next thing you knew, you were stumbling out on to the sidewalk outside by the parking lot.

Matt gave one final snicker at a joke you told him before reaching the end of the sidewalk. He stops and you do the same.

“Well Ms. (L/N), thank you for letting me take you out tonight. I know you’re going to excel on this case.”

You smile back at him. “Thank you, sir.”

“Do you want me to drive you back to the station so you can get your car?”

“No, no don’t worry about it. I think I’ve had enough tonight that I know I shouldn’t drive myself.”

“Well then let me drive you home. Or you could always stay at my place if you wanted.”

If you didn’t know any better, you might have assumed he meant something else behind those words. But with that last drink, you actually didn’t know any better and the subtle invitation behind the offer flew straight over your head as you swat your hand at him.

“Oh no, you don’t have to do that. I’ll be fine taking a cab or something. Besides, I’ve kept you here long enough. You should get home to your wife.” The words slip out of your mouth before you can stop yourself and you see his expression fall as the last word tumbled out of your mouth. 

The look in his eyes could only be described as a mix between mild terror and confusion. His hands found their way into his pockets and he gave you a strange look. “I’m sorry, but what did you just say?”

Shit. Those drinks may have loosened you up a little too much. You mentally curse at yourself. You knew you shouldn't have drank tonight.

“I meant- uh, I just meant that it’s getting dark and I didn’t want you to be out too long in case your wife- or your husband! - I don’t know- I’m not judging- in case they were waiting for you and-”.

Matt moved his hand up for you to stop, his entire body visibly cringing. You do so, swallowing the rest of your sentence. The pleasant atmosphere that had been worked up for the last few hours was quickly becoming undone and you watch as he struggles to come up with something to say. His next words were picked very carefully.

“(F/N) …I’m not gay.” 

You awkwardly wring your hands behind your back, feeling the need to explain yourself. “I-I’m sorry, sir. It’s just-” you hesitate. 

Did you really need to bring this up right now? It was always possible to play it off as a joke right? You wanted to but the way Matt started at you expectantly, waiting on an explanation, you knew that wasn’t possible. With a sigh, you point to his hand.

“I saw the ring on your hand earlier.” You admit. “I wasn’t sure if you were-”.

Before you could finish, Matt’s eyes immediately widened. You heard his sharp intake of breath as he frantically pulled his hand out of his pocket and yanked off the ring. He clasps it tightly in his hand, as if not being able to see it would somehow make it disappear. He turns partly away, refusing to meet your gaze and you notice a tint of rouge appear on his cheeks.

“I apologize for this but I need to go now,” he whispers in a dull and troubled voice. “You can swing by the office sometime to pick up the rest of the Fakes’ files. Goodnight, (F/N).”

He begins to walk to his car in a hurried manner and you scramble in your head to think of something to say. You didn’t want him to leave! Hell, you weren’t even sure what you said to set him off but you swore you didn’t mean to!

“Matt, wait!” You call, stretching out a hand toward his back. It was the first time you had ever called him by his first name. and while it felt new and exciting to say, in this particular moment it felt the complete opposite. You watch him falter and he stops halfway to the car.

Taking advantage of his pause, you start to go after him when your legs suddenly refused to move. Nerves or from the drinks, you couldn't tell. Instead, you clutch your hands toward your chest.

“Matt, I’m sorry. Whatever I did, I promise I didn’t mean to upset you. So please...don't go.”

Matt slowly turns back to face you. The dim light radiating off the street lamps covered his face in shadows. He almost appeared guilty and it takes you a second to realize he's not looking at you, but something beyond where you stood. After a moment he mutters something that could've ranged from an "I'm sorry" to "Forgive me" and turns back to his car, unlocking the door and climbing inside. A few seconds later, the engine was running and he was already pulling out of the parking space. You watch from the sidewalk as he pulls out of the parking lot and disappears down the road.

You didn’t understand what could've set him off. _Maybe it was when you called him gay_ , your mind answers and you force yourself to quickly dismiss the thought. Perhaps he and his wife were having issues? Or maybe she left him? Or maybe he was trying to pull some moves on you and when you figured out he was married, he panicked?

Okay maybe that last one was a long shot. Matt didn’t seem like the type to cheat. He’s too honest. If he wasn’t, he wouldn’t be the chief of police now would he? Well whatever the circumstance was, Matt wasn’t in the mood to discuss it and that was okay. You could probably just ask him about it when you picked up the files like he said.

You pull out your phone to dial the number of a cab company, silently hoping they would still have drivers working this late at night. As you do, you feel a hard bump against your back and it sends you stumbling forward from the force. You let out a surprised grunt and whip around the face whatever smacked into you. 

It was a man in his late 20’s with short, pointed sandy-brown hair. He had a button up navy blue shirt and sunglasses on even though it was dark. He put a hand on your shoulder to steady you, “Sorry, love” he mutters before continuing down the sidewalk.

You stare after him and mutter a few curse words before turning your attention back to your phone. Then you pause. You frantically check your back pocket, feeling nothing but the empty space. It was gone. 

You wildly look back to where you last seen the man. He had vanished. Anger as well as disbelief sets in.

Some jackass just stole your wallet!


	4. The Lunch Date and The Explanation

You wipe the sweat from your forehead and take in a full breath, releasing it with a slight laugh as you eye over the stacked boxes of cardboard now waiting to be unpacked. It had been two days since the pick-pocketing incident and you had just finished moving all your belongings into the new apartment. 

You fall onto the leather couch in the living room and let your arms hang limply by your sides, staring up at the ceiling with a small smile.This place...was yours. Even after the papers were signed and you were clear to move in, it was still hard to accept that this was officially your new home.

Breathing deep, you close your eyes and allow the silence of the apartment to fill your ears. 

Silence. That was certainly something you hadn’t heard in a long time. There wasn’t a neighbor above you practicing their tapdancing, no babies crying across the hall, and definitely no bashing headboard on the thin walling. You could barely even hear the traffic outside your window. 

You spare a glance at said windows. Or at least, where they had been. What once overlooked the neighborhoods behind your building was now nothing but a wall of spare blankets. You were as high as you originally thought and already took the liberty of covering the view from sight. You’ve never been great about heights and this place would be no exception. It was obvious you were going to have to special order custom curtains to fit windows that tall and that long. But, of course, the garment factory in La Mesa was closed for the weekends and, after all the cab rides to bring everything here, you now needed to save up enough to make a quote. So until then, the blankets would have to do for now. Or at least until you could find something a little more...well, fashionable to use than grandma's crochet work. 

The vibration of your phone catches your attention. You sit up, grabbing the device off the glass table and scan over the screen. A new message. Your breath catches in your throat as a familiar face flashes in mind and an offset feeling of guilt set in. As you open the message notification, you wonder if it’s him. Matt and you had yet to be in contact. Sure it had only been two days, but the way things had happened? It felt much longer than that. 

However, as you eye the number you quickly realize it wasn’t Matt. In fact, you didn’t recognize this number. You read the text. 

_Cluckin Bell or Burger Shot?_

A smile broke onto your face. Flipping up the keyboard, you text a reply.

_Seeing’s how Burger Shot got a 32 on their health rating last week, I’m gonna have to say Cluckin Bell._

_K. Meet in 15?_

_Sounds good._

You skip upstairs to quickly shower and change before heading out. Your wallet still hadn’t been found and until it was, you were cash-strapped and unable to drive for the time being.

As you step outside, a damp breeze ruffled through your hair and clothes. A storm had recently passed through and left behind a number of large and small puddles scattered along the sidewalk. Sunlight radiated off the hot pavement, sending up swirling puffs of steam that stuck to your shoes. You begin your walk to the diner. 

*** 

In total you had traveled over eight blocks before you reached the restaurant. The familiar sight of the golden bell with a red cock’s comb glowed brightly against the quickly darkening sky. 

Looks like the rain was returning for another round. 

A small rumble of thunder roars in the distance and you quickly duck inside as sprinkles of rain begin to fall. The bell above the door jingles as you step inside. A cashier on the opposite side of the room sends a monotone greeting in your direction before returning her attention to her phone. With an absent nod to her, you scan the floor until you spot a familiar hoodie in the farthest booth towards the back. You stroll over.

“So, to what pleasure do I have seeing you outside your cave today?”

Rusty doesn’t bother looking up from his phone. “Thought we could have lunch together to congratulate you.”

“Congratulate me?”

“You took the assignment, didn’t you?”

You raise an eyebrow. “And how did you know that? We haven’t talked since Friday.”

A smug smile played over his lips but he didn’t respond. You roll your eyes and sit down across from him. If he wanted to be secretive, fine. As long as he wasn’t stalking you, he could do whatever he wanted.

You look around the restaurant. It’s been a while since the two of you met here. Over a month or two, that’s for sure. And today in particular was pretty empty. There was a couple ordering at the counter and one other couple sitting in one of the booths but that was it. Was it just a regular sunday crowd or did you miss a memo? You quietly hope you didn’t get the health reports mixed up earlier...

“How was the move?” Rusty suddenly asks, finally glancing up at you.

“Hm? Oh, it was okay. I’m pretty high up so it was a struggle to get everything from my old place to the new one,” you admit, ”But it probably would’ve been a lot easier if I could’ve just driven-”

“What do you mean?”

You bite your lip. Rusty would get a kick out of it if you told him you had been pickpocketed. In your head you could already hear him laughing and cracking jokes. No way were you going to submit yourself to that. You decide to aim for the lesser of two evils.

“Oh uh, I lost my wallet. You know, clumsy me.”

He snorts. “Ain’t that true.” He takes a sip of some soda he must’ve ordered before you arrived. “You know you could’ve called me to help?”

“You change your number so much it’s hard to keep track of which one is active.”

He shrugs and runs a hand through his hair. “Probably. But you still know where to find me.”

“I don’t have my license, Rust. I can’t drive.”

“Neither does half of Los Santos. Doesn’t stop them.”

This conversation was going nowhere. You huff and grab the soda cup from his hand, taking a sip to try to dispel your annoyance with him. You watch his eyes widen before a large smile plays over his lips and he begins to laugh hysterically. It was then that the taste hits your throat and you choke, coughing hard.

“Rust! What the hell is this?! It’s disgusting!”

He can’t reply for a second and when he does all he says is, “You better hope you don’t have a drug test coming up.”

You frantically grab a napkin, trying to get the taste off your tongue as he continues laughing. You glare at him.

“Fuck you, man.”

“Oh, please. I hope you don’t mean that as a suggestion. You know you’re like a sister to me.”

“Which makes sense that you would be the troublesome older brother.” You groan, still tasting the disgusting mix of soda and whatever-else-that-was in your mouth.

Still grinning, he gets up from the booth. “I’ll grab you a water.”

You ask him to get some food too. You were starving.

He leaves to go to the counter and you pull out our phone to check the time. It was still early. After lunch you were planning to swing by the station to pick up the files Matt told you about on Friday. Your mind drifts back to your boss- well...previous boss. Should you message him? To say that you would be stopping by?

No, you can’t do that. What if he found out you got pickpocketed after he left you after dinner? No. He would feel responsible for it and that would only add to the awkwardness between you right now. You put the phone down.

A bottle suddenly appears in front of your face and you eagerly take it, unscrewing the top and chugging down the water. Rusty slips back into his spot, holding a receipt ticket for the orders. A glint of that amusement is still present in his eyes as he watches you. You catch it and swallow one more gulp before glaring at him.

“Don’t look at me like that. You could’ve told me what was in it before I drank it.”

“I could’ve.”

He left it at that. The cashier called his number and he got up again. When he came back, he put down a red tray, snagging the large fry container and sitting back down. You start eating the breaded chicken tenders, realizing just how hungry you were. You didn’t have a very full breakfast this morning and these freshly-baked, hot pieces of heaven tasted so amazing right now.

Rust went back to scrolling through his phone as you ate. You take the opportunity to study him. His stubble was starting to grow longer and his clothes had changed from your last meeting as well. He was back in his normal hoodie and some faded blue jeans. You also notice that the outfit seemed a little large on him. You begin to wonder if maybe he wasn’t eating again and suddenly feel guilty for asking him to pay.

Then you remember. Rusty was a drug dealer. Not a homeless person. He had the money to do whatever he wanted. He was probably just choosing not to eat.

A large shadow crosses over the table and startles you into looking up to the window. Your heart practically jumped out of your chest.

You leapt up, bumping the table and startling Rusty from his phone. Fries scattered onto the floor.

It couldn’t be. Your eyes narrow. 

Oh but it was.

“(F/N)? What is it?” Rust asks, turning to look out the window as well.

“That fucking prick,” You growl. You abandon the booth and race to the door. Outside, the rain had stopped and you ran outside, scanning frantically around until you spot him. Yes! That was him! Just beyond the restaurant was the man who pickpocketed you! He was walking down the street, one hand in his pocket and the other scrolling through his phone. He remained oblivious to your presence behind him. Your heartbeat quickens as you begin to sprint after him.

“Hey!” You scream!

The man stops and turns around, confused. He sees you running at him and his face pales with recognition. He wildly looks around and darts off down an alleyway across the street to your left. You follow suit right on his heels, cars blaring and screeching to a stop to avoid hitting you!

“Hey! Stop!” You continue to yell but it only motivates him to increase his speed. He dials something on his phone then raises it to his ear, screaming in a high pitch voice, “Michael! Michael help!”

The alleyway was about to end. This was your chance! You stretch out your hand, ready to grab him. You can feel the cloth of his blue shirt brushing against your fingertips and begin to grin.

That’s when you the ground under you disappeared. 

You let out a cry as the earth gave way and you fall, foot sailing out and slipping in the deep puddle. The chilling shock of water soaking into your pants was the least of your problems. As you hit the ground, you skid your elbows against the gravelly pavement, barely having enough time to react and realize you had fallen in the first place. 

The man! Remembering the chase, you snap your head up and scramble to get back on your feet. But by the time you do, he had already reached the end of the alleyway. You go to call out but a large black car screeches to a stop right in front of him! The window is cracked and you hear shouting from inside. The man runs out into the road and slides along the hood before climbing into the passenger seat. He's smiling.

No! 

NO!

You hurry to the end of the alley but the car takes back off before you can reach it, the tires sending up smoke as it disappears down the road and around the corner.

_Idiot!_

There’s a moment of overwhelming silence as the reality of what just happened hits you. 

Then you scream in anger, turning and kicking a trash can beside you! The contents inside spilled throughout the alleyway but you didn’t care. You were pissed. 

Pulling out your phone and opening the notepad app, you mutter a series of numbers and letters. Behind you, you hear your name being called. Footsteps echo against the alley walls as Rusty runs over to you, breathing heavily.

“Hey! What the heck was that about? Why did you- Woah! You’re bleeding!”

You ignore him and look back toward where the car disappeared, wishing it would turn around and come back. Of course, it did no such thing. You let out another growl- then a yelp as you feel a sting of pain rush through your arm. 

Whirling around, you find Rusty holding a Cluckin Bell napkin against your elbow. You rip away, only noticing the blood when you see it spotted on the thin paper. The action earns you a scolding look. 

“What is going on, (F/N).” he demands.

You hold his stare a moment longer before looking away and take the napkin from him, using it to put pressure on the cuts.

“That man…He pickpocketed me. He stole my wallet on Friday.”

“What? I thought you said you lost it?”

“Yeah, well I lied.” 

You peer once more at your phone before gazing over at him, holding it up to his eye level. “At least I got this.”

On the screen was one simple phrase.

**00MOGAR**

***

Rusty gave you enough cash to get a cab to the station and back to your apartment, plus a little extra for dinner purposes. He refused to let you give some of it back, insisting you were getting thinner than he was. A half-compliment, he said. And before you leave, he tells you he will keep an eye out for your wallet. It was likely the thief sold it after he got what he wanted. With Rusty’s network of customers, one of them was bound to know something. You sigh and thank him.

You climb into the cab that Rusty had called and tell the driver your destination. As he pulls off of the curb, you twist in your seat to look out the back window at him. Rusty smiles and waves you off before disappearing once more into the Cluckin Bell. The action reminds you of just how lucky you were to have someone like him as a friend. The blow up from before appeared to be behind the two of you, like every other fight you’ve had. 

The thought makes you frown.

Once at the station, you climb out, hand the driver some cash, and head up the steps inside. You’re greeted once more by a small group of officers and you wave to them before walking over to the receptionist on duty, giving her a hopeful grin.

“Anything yet?”

She peeks up from the desk and her eyes widen upon seeing you. It was obvious she wasn’t expecting you. Mica quickly puts aside her surprise and sends an apologetic look. 

“Sorry, (F/N). No one’s reported finding your wallet yet. But don’t worry. We’ll call you if it turns up.”

“Thanks, Mica, I really appreciate it.” 

You start to walk away but stop, remembering the car from earlier. You pull out your phone and show it to her. “Hey, would you mind doing me a favor? Can you run this plate?”

“Is Matt going to be mad if I do?”

“I promise I’m not doing that again,” you pout, recalling the same incident she was thinking of,“ I saw someone matching the description of the guy who stole my wallet driving it.”

A long pause stretches between the two of you before she gives in with a shake of the head and small smile. You hand her the phone, watching her fingers track across the keyboard as she plugs the plate number into a box on the screen. She clicks the scan icon and a small circle pops up to indicate that it’s searching for a match.

While you wait, you drum your fingers on the counter, “So speaking of him, is Matt’s here today? I really need to talk to him.”

Mica looks toward the hallway, mouth slightly ajar. “Uhh... actually you know what? I don’t think he is. Barbara had the desk before me…” She bent over the desk, searching for something behind the counter and pulls out a sticky note. “Yep here it is, apparently Matt called in sick today as well.”

“As well?”

“Yeah, he took yesterday off too. Said he wasn’t feeling good.”

Your brain didn’t waste a second in reminding you of Friday night. Guilt set in. You were probably the reason for his ‘sickness’. He must’ve been so embarrassed about the whole thing he didn’t even want to risk running into you.

You give her a sad smile. “That really sucks, I’m sorry to hear it.”

She starts to reply when the computer interrupts with a loud beep. It had a match. Mica turns and scans over the information.

“The car belongs to someone named M. L. Jones. Here’s his picture.” She turns the monitor toward you and you squint. 

Where had you seen that face printed before?

“Mmm…Sorry, no. That’s not the guy. His hair is too dark and the noses don’t match.”

Mica looks surprised. “Oh.” She turns and looks at the monitor then back to you. “Sorry, (F/N).”

You wave off the apology. “I’m sure they’ll show up sooner or later. If anything, I’ll just go ahead and get my license redone and talk to the bank about getting new cards.”

“Sure. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

You debate asking her something else that had been burning on your mind.

“Actually,” You lower your voice so only she could hear, “Do you know if Matt is married?”

Mica immediately gives a nervous chuckle. She gave you a once over. “Ohoho um, I didn’t know you two were into each other like that-”

“That’s not what I meant.” You cut in, “The other day I saw him wearing a ring on his hand. It looked like a wedding ring. When I asked him about it he started acting all strange and wouldn’t talk about it. I’ve never seen him with it the whole time I’ve been here, that’s why I ask.”

She opens her mouth to speak when the phone begins ringing. She checks the number before shaking her head at you. “Sorry, I’m going to need to take this. But no, I don’t know if he is, sorry. I’ll call later if we find your wallet. See you later, (F/N).”

“You too.” You mutter as she answers the phone.

With an intake of breath and just as many questions as before circling through your head, you make your way to the records department across the lobby and down another long hallway. You enter the door labeled “Records and Evidence” and greet the guard behind the counter. 

Gus looks up from the monitors, “Here for the file?” 

You nod, walking over and planting yourself in front of the counter. He sighs and gets up from his chair, unlocking a door to the side and walking into the back storage room.

To be honest, you didn’t know Gus too well. He never really bothered with anyone at the department and as far as you were concerned, Matt and Mica were really the only ones who could hold a conversation with him. They seemed like they were all good friends with one another but that was from mere observation. As for the two of you, you’re paths never really crossed. The only interactions you shared were when you needed to submit evidence to storage, and even that was brief.

Gus walks out of the storage room carrying a medium sized, white box with the red letters spelling “EVIDENCE” stamped across the top. He puts it down on the counter and slides it over to you.

“Ha, I wonder what’s in here.” You try to joke, taking the box in your arms. He just rolls his eyes, expression remaining stoic.

“Haha yeah, haven’t heard that one before.”

Yesh. Maybe not getting to know him wasn’t a bad thing, you think. You thank him quietly for the files and move to head out.

“He is, you know.”

You stop. Slowly turning back, you see Gus hunched over the counter, elbows digging into the desk with his arms crossed together. His expression remained the same but now an air of confidence vibrated off him.

“What do you mean?”

“Matt. He’s married.”

This startles you. “How did-?”

He gestured to the monitors. “We have security inside the building as well as outside.

You frown. That wasn’t creepy at all. But something inside urged you to ask more. You move back to the counter and put down the box on the floor beside you.

“Alright. Tell me about it.”

Gus gave you a look. “I’m not really supposed to say anything.”

“Oh come on, Sorola. I’m just curious.”

“And _I_ just want to keep my job.”

“I’m not going to tell anyone if that’s what you’re worried about. I just want an explanation.”

He studies you for a moment before sighing. He reaches behind the desk and flips a switch. You see the camera behind the counter move and face the other way and the monitor turns to static.

“We only have a minute until it turns back on so just listen and don’t interrupt.”

You nod eagerly.

“About six or so years back he married this woman named Anna. They both had recently graduated from college together and moved in together and had kids. Everything was perfect. Perfect marriage, perfect kids, perfect home. Unfortunately, that didn’t last long. Turns out Matt was in some kind of trouble and didn’t tell his family until there was an attack one night. He somehow convinced Anna that he had it handled and they didn’t need to leave. He joined the police department in an attempt to deter the aggressors. Well, if anything that only made him a bigger target. About three years ago, he came back from work to a completely destroyed house. Wife and kids missing, no word at all where they went. A note came in the mail a few weeks later saying if he didn’t pay a ransom, his family would be killed. He paid the money but they were never returned. Just, gone. They haven’t been found and as far as I know, he’s still searching for them.”

The static monitor began to focus again. Gus pulled something out of a drawer and handed it over the counter to you. “Take this and get out. If anyone asks, Mica told you.”

Without a word, you dip your head respectfully and pick up the box, not pausing to look at what he handed you. You leave the room and walk to the front of the station. A cab pulls up not too soon after and you hop in.

As the car pulls off, you glance down at the thin, glossy object in your hand. It was a picture. You see Gus posing with two young children, smiling with one another, birthday party hats resting crooked on their heads. Beside them, in the background, a woman. She was wearing a flowing white sundress and had her arms wrapped around a younger looking Matt. They were both smiling and laughing. They both looked so...happy with one another. 

Your heart dropped low in your chest when you saw that her slightly extended stomach. It was almost brutal to look considering what you knew about her now. She had been pregnant.

You flip the picture over and read the faded, cursive writing on the back.

 _Happy birthday to my wonderful children and husband, Matt. Here’s to one among many! I love you all so much._ – Anna

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, I would just like to add that Matt's children in this story are NOT his actual kids. They're only mentioned for the purpose of his backstory, which will become prevalent later on. They will remain unnamed. 
> 
> I should be uploading Thursday as usual so until then, enjoy what's already here. Thanks!


	5. The Greatest First Day Ever

You were currently standing in the center of the Rockford Hills police stations’ lobby. The building was silent, the circle of maybe ten or so officers surrounding you were busy sharing pointed glances between one another.The atmosphere felt so on edge, a pen could hit the floor and it would match the intensity of a shotgun blast. 

The moment you had walked in, you noticed the distance the officers were keeping from you, as if being in your mere presence was like being exposed to the plague. Not to mention that the hairs on the back of your neck had no problem alerting you to the piercing glares sent in your direction... 

However, the overwhelming silence and glares weren’t the worst thing. 

Before you stood a man. He stood roughly six feet tall with short, ashy brown hair and intense chestnut brown eyes. His hands were on his hips and he stood slightly hunched, scowling at you with extreme displeasure. You could already tell this was going to be far from a welcome party. 

“You’re late.”

Those two words had broken the sound barrier. Immediately after his hiss, mummers from the others spread through the lobby like wildfire. You glance around at them before checking his face for any sign that this was a joke before looking down at your watch.

It was 9:01. You shift started at 9.

You can’t help but laugh incredulously. Was this guy serious?

“Excuse me? I’m sorry, who are you?”

“Joel Heyman. Your sergeant.”

Shit. 

You awkwardly clear your throat, “My apologies, sir.”

“You would think the person chosen to lead one of the biggest cases in our records would at least have the decency to show up on time.”

“But- Sir, with all due respect, it’s only been a minute since-!” you try to explain but he holds up a hand to stop you.

“I don’t care,” he spat, “You should arrive fifteen minutes early. Always. This isn’t La Mesa anymore. Excuses won’t work around here.”

The mumbling started up again and you couldn’t stop yourself from peering over at the group. You make eye contact with one of the officers. He quickly notices your gaze and stops, but the telling look in his eyes was all that was needed for you to understand. It sends a shiver through your body. 

They hated you. And you didn’t know why.

Your mind begged for the attention to go away. For them to leave you alone. Part of you even debated how much trouble you would be in if you just walked out. But as much as you wanted to simply tuck tail and leave, you weren’t going to allow yourself to give in so easily. You needed to remain professional, especially in front of your sergeant. Now was not the time to show weakness and so you take a deep breath.

“I’m sorry, sir. It won’t happen again.”

For a moment, Joel doesn’t move. He actually seems startled that you apologized. Maybe he thought you really would tuck tail and leave? However, he quickly shakes off the surprise and straightens with a nod, seemingly satisfied by your response.

“I don’t pay you to stand around talk all day! Get back to work!” a booming voice suddenly rings out from across the lobby! 

All around you the officers snap their attention to the where the voice originated before scattering elsewhere. A few officers run past you out the front doors, knowingly knocking shoulders against your decently smaller form as they pass. 

But once the rush clears and you're able to regain your footing, you turn around and spot the owner of the voice. 

Burnie Burns, your new chief. 

The greying brown-haired, bearded man makes his way over and Joel leans away, stepping back to allow Burnie into the circle. As he approaches, you notice the deeply-etched stress lines around his face and the purplish tint resting under his eyes. His shoulders were slumped and his hands were slightly shaking. He didn’t look well. 

He ignores you once in the circle, instead giving Joel a look over. 

“Quit messing with the rookie, man. We have real work to do.” 

Surprisingly, Joel doesn’t retort with a comment. Without a word, he simply dips his head before backing away and retreating to a small group discussing paperwork off to the side. Once sure that he can’t hear the two of you, Chief Burns finally turns his attention to you. You open your mouth to thank him but he speaks first.

“You’re late.”

***

You’re led into a room at the back of the station. The nameplate on the wall clearly labeled it as Burnie’s office. He nudges the door open with his shoulder and walks inside. You move to follow yet find yourself frozen in the doorway. The office before you was startlingly similar to Matt’s. A wide-open room with a window in the corner and a desk and shelf towards the back. The wallpaper was the same and the wooden bordering had that familiar appearance too. The only difference? The cleanness. Unlike Matt’s office, everything in this office had a place and was in that place. You couldn’t find a trace of trash in the vicinity. 

You slowly step inside and sit down in one of the two chairs by the desk. Burnie falls into his office chair and scoots forward so he could place his elbows on the cherry polished wood. His mouth is thin with displeasure as he studies you.

“So, you’re the rookie Hullum sent.”

“I am-”

“I didn’t give you permission to talk.”

He waits a moment before reaching down into a drawer and pulling out a manila folder. With a slight of hand, he slides it over to you. You hesitate before taking it, not sure if you needed permission to do so.

“This case is out of your league, kid.” He continues, watching your uncertainty. “I don’t understand what you’ve done to convince them you’re better equipped to handle this than one of my men, but, if the director says it’s your case, then fine. It’s your case. But know this,” He leans forward, “You work for me now. You work under my command, my rules, and my orders. I don’t care about your past arrest rates. I don’t care that you’ve only been here for as long as you have. If you expect me to hold your hand and walk you through this, you’ll be sadly mistaken. I’m a chief and I’m going to act like it. I expect the same from you. You’re a detective now. I care that you get this case done and solved. And soon. Any questions?”

You nod and the act seems to discourage him. He sighs with annoyance and gestures for you to go ahead.

“May I ask why there’s such a need of urgency to solve the Fake’s case? Chief Hullum told me earlier that I would be doing more along the lines of recon work. You know, finding out locations and the what not.”

Burnie laughs, “I bet he also told you he was paying for the apartment you’re staying in too, right?” 

You raise an eyebrow in confusion. Burnie turns his attention away from you and adjusts the gold-colored name plate on his desk. 

“You are correct in that you’ll be doing some recon work. But that’s not all. Since you’re the sole investigator, I want more than just names of accomplices, safe houses, and plans of possible future attacks. I want them found and if possible, captured or controlled.” He points down at the folder and continues, “The file you’re holding is the one you will fill out and return to me each week with everything you’ve gathered during that time. I’m expecting at least five new additions each week.”

You don’t realize your mouth is hanging open until Burnie gives you a strange look. You quickly close it, licking your lips. “Sir, this was not the offer that was promised. I was told-”

“We all do our part to make Los Santos safe, (L/N). If you have a problem with what your job entails, you can always drop it and move back to La Mesa and to your poor excuse of a chief.” 

His growl silenced any further comments or questions from you. His cheeks were blaring red and his nose was bright pink. You stare at him in horror and that seems to be when he realizes the harshness behind his words. He sits back and takes a moment to breathe, shutting his eyes and rubbing his temples. “I don’t think I’m asking for much. It’s nothing you haven’t already done or experienced. I was told you were the best and now that you’re here, I want to see it in action. Just put an end to these assholes, would ya?” 

You held your tongue. You really weren’t sure what to say. Was this man bitter all the time or was something seriously wrong? You take another look at the purple tints under his eyes and recognize them now as the symptom of many nights without sleep. In the dimmer lighting of the office, you could also more easily see how flushed the skin around his face was. Something was causing your chief overwhelming stress, that was clear. But how do you bring it up to him?

Before you could answer that question, Burnie straightens. His voice drops to a flat tone. “By law, I am supposed to treat you as I would for one of my men. So here,” he drops a pair of small keys on the desk, “Go find where your locker is and get out of that uniform. You’re in Rockford Hills now, kid. Dress the part. Now, get out of my office.”

You take the folder and give Burnie a nod, excusing yourself from the room and into the hallway. Once the door was closed, you quietly groan and put a hand to your forehead. This was not looking great. Were you really going to have to deal with these guys for the rest of your time here? 

Matt’s words suddenly echo in your head.

_“If it turns into a situation you can’t handle, please call me and I’ll get it sorted out.”_

You debate whether you should follow him up on that call. But before you pull out your phone, you stop yourself. What were you doing? It was only the first day. Of course your boss and superior were going to give you a hard time. It was just something that happens. A way for the guys on top to establish dominance. 

Right?

After asking a few officers where the locker room was, you finially get a clear enough answer and head in that direction. You find the locker room and head inside, scanning the towering metal spaces for number “32”, the number printed on your key. You find it towards the back, tucked in a corner. You insert the key and twist it to the side, hearing the sound of the lock clicking open. The navy blue door swings open. 

The inside was clean, spotless even. On the top shelf you find a uniform wrapped in plastic wrap. You check the sizing printed on the label before pulling it out of the bag and holding it up to your body. It looked like it should fit but there was really only one way to find out. You scan the locker room for anyone else before quickly undressing from your old uniform and changing into the new one.

You weren’t body shy. Mostly. You could handle the crew at La Mesa seeing you in a sports bra and shorts, but here? With a completely new group? Most of which weren’t exactly laying out the red carpet for you? It was different. Uncomfortable even. Not to mention that at least at La Mesa, it wasn’t a unisex locker room. Who knew what kind of people liked to peak around in here...

You finish dressing by buckling on your duty belt. With a look over at your appearance in the mirror, you find yourself smiling. The Rockford Hills uniform was a rich, deep navy-blue, border lining complete black. The size fitting was close to perfect and you assumed they contacted Matt for that. 

Now there was just one last thing to do.

You reach down into the bag you brought and pull out a few things to decorate your new work space: a photograph of you with your parents at college graduation, one of your brother, and some magnets to hang them up. You debate on if you should hang up the picture of you and Rusty but quickly decide not to. You didn’t want to risk someone seeing and recognizing his face. You put that photo back in your bag.

“It’s against the rules to put anything personal in your locker, you know.”

You snap your head toward the speaker of the voice, expecting Joel or Burnie. Instead, it’s a woman. She had long brown hair with the faintest of red dye towards the ends wrapped in a neat bun. Her eyes crinkle as she smiles at you. She had on a regular t-shirt and some pants with a bright pair of converse. She stops beside you.

“The boss hates it when you show even the slightest bit of being human. Photos are a big no-no.”

You frown and it was hard to hide the disappointment in your voice, “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t kn-”

She opens the locker beside yours. It was littered with pictures of people and animals, stickers of cats, and cute little clips to hold everything up. She holds up a finger to her mouth.

“I won’t tell if you don’t.” She laughs and holds out a hand, “My name is Lindsay Tuggey.”

You can’t help but smile back and put your hand in hers. “(F/N) (L/N). I just transferred here today.”

“I can tell. What division are you in?”

You explain the Fake A.H Crew case. She listens patiently until you finish.

“I thought your name sounded familiar. Burnie had a meeting about the new recruit who was taking on that case. You’re already kinda popular around here.”

“I am?”

“A lot of people were in front of you for the case but Chief Hullum said he had already picked out a candidate and signed her off. You can imagine how a lot of those same people reacted to the news.”

“Oh. So not popular in a good way. That would explain a lot about this morning, actually…”

Lindsay began changing into her uniform and you glance back to your locker. If what she said was true, and there really was a line of people supposed to take the case before you, why had Matt assigned you first? He would have had to sign the transfer papers before he even brought it up to you. Was that even legal?

“I know what you’re thinking,” Lindsay said, pulling on her top, “Burnie and Joel can be bums a lot of the time. But everyone else here is pretty friendly once you get to know them. You just have to establish that you aren't one to mess with. Besides, you seem like you’ll be very capable of this case so maybe some of the others will start hanging out with you soon.”

You weren’t so sure about that but offer a hopeful smile to her to hide your uncertainty. Once she finished changing into her uniform, Lindsay puts a reassuring hand on your shoulder. 

“It was nice to meet you, (F/N). If you ever need to talk or have a question about how things work around here, you can find me in the narcotics department. It’s just around the corner.”

She waves goodbye as she leaves the locker room. You stand in the silence for a moment, reflecting on the wild day you’ve had already. On one hand, you had two extremely crazy bosses. On the other, looks like you’ve already got one friend watching your back out of a task force of probably a hundred. So...off to a good start, you guess.

A vibration buzzes out through the room and you glance down at your phone on the wooden bench. It was another text from an unknown number. You pick up the phone and scan over the message before slamming your locker door shut. Time to start your first day. 

***

Your knees were practically buckling under you as you finally exit the elevator to your apartment. You had spent the last ten hours walking around the city questioning some of the names Rusty had sent you over the text. He said they were all old contacts he had when he was in the crew. However, each name he suggested went straight to a dead end. Most people weren’t in the city anymore and the others didn’t even bother talking to you, one pulling a gun and sending you running for cover. You were beginning to doubt the existence of a good lead.

As you reach your apartment door and unlock it, you couldn’t stop thinking about how all you wanted right now was to get off your feet and massage them. Maybe take a nice long, hot shower and then immediately follow it with twenty hours of sleep.

However, when you step inside and reach to turn on the light, you freeze. Looking around the apartment, you slowly put your bag down by the door and clutch the small canister of pepper spray on your hip. 

Why were the lights already on?

You step inside for a better look. There was no sign of anyone inside and nothing appeared out of place. Yet something felt off. You knew for a fact you didn’t leave the lights on when you left that morning.

Moving into the foyer, you scan the dining room and kitchen. That’s when you see it. The small gift waiting for you on the kitchen counter. The familiarity of it piercing your vision. You pick up your wallet.

The inside was empty spare one card. The twenty dollar gift card Rusty had given you for you first promotion. No cash, no licence, nothing else. You sigh, glancing around the room again before throwing the wallet back down. 

Rusty must have found it and swung by earlier to give it back. You weren’t sure how he managed to find your apartment, much less get inside. But the tiredness from earlier was quickly sinking back in before you could come up with a reasonable explanation. You grab your bag at the door and toss it on the dining room table before taking a sweep of the house just to be safe. You move into each room, checking them slowly, making sure not to miss anything. 

When it came to the office door, you were pleased to find it still locked. At least your documents were still safe inside. Lord knows what Rusty would’ve done to those files without you around. You check the rest of the apartment and find the same story. Nothing. You finish back in the kitchen, reading the clock as nothing else other than being late. Work began at nine again tomorrow.

A wide yawn and a nice, long shower later you were crawling into bed, literally. Your limbs begged to stop being moved and you gave in once you were comfortable under the sheets. You were so drained you hadn’t even bothered putting on a shirt, just a pair of shorts and socks. The lights switch off and you lay your head down on the pillow, breathing already slowing.The moment your eyelids close, you fell into a deep sleep.

***

You scream, bolting up from the pillows and racing to press the button attached to your bed for the ceiling light. It flashes on, bathing the room in a bright yellow glow. Your heart hammers in your chest as you stare wildly around the bed. Your short gasps sound throughout the room and you place a hand over your chest to try to steady your breathing. Tears prick your eyes.

Nothing there.

You let out a soft string of curses, rubbing your neck where the sudden action caused it to ache. A nightmare… Only a nightmare, you assure yourself.

But part of you remains unconvinced. It felt too real. The face you saw…The uneasiness you felt…The overwhelming feeling of being watched…

You rub your eyes. Nightmares weren’t something you commonly struggled with, so why now? Sighing, you glance over at your alarm clock on the other side of the room. It had only been about an hour. 

After a brief trip to the bathroom to splash of water on your face, you crawl back into bed and try to fall asleep once more. But this time you make sure to leave the light on and play some soft music on the radio to calm your nerves. It goes without saying that it took much longer to fall asleep this time. But even as your breathing finally slowed once more and your body succumbed to the call of sleep, you could still see it. The burning image behind your closed eyelids.

The sight of the grey skull peering out at you in the darkness beside your bed.


	6. The Cab Ride

“You look like shit.”

You were too tired to bother giving Rusty a look. The two of you sat outside of some hot-dog restaurant he had chosen for lunch. Despite being almost in the direct center of town, not many people were eating here and you could see why. This place was way over-priced and you heard from rumors that the meat was spiked- mainly with horse. 

While rumors were simply that, rumors, you weren’t exactly in the mood to test it and find out they were true.

Rusty sipped from another soda cup and your stomach turned, remembering the last time one of his cups were involved. He catches your expression and drew a pitied look. “You’ve been quiet all lunch. What’s up, (f/n)?”

“Nothing is ‘up’. I just didn’t sleep well last night.”

The sound of some cars honking a streetlight over covered up his response so he had to wait until the noise died down before speaking again. 

“First day jitters?”

“You could say something like that.”

“Well how was it?”

You toss one of his fries into your mouth and quickly catch him up to speed. He raises an eyebrow when you mention your new chief.

“That guy? He’s seriously the chief of police? After what he did?”

This peaks your interest, “What do you mean?”

Rusty glances around the patio before leaning in. “Dude was part of a gang probably ten years ago. He’s been in jail twice for related activity and money laundering. He made a whole company just to rip people off.”

You raise an eyebrow. “I thought you’ve only been in Los Santos for five years. How could you possibly even know that?” 

“You should be one to know how fast word travels around here,” he scoffs, “Names especially.” 

You take a sip of your drink. If Rusty was right, how could Burine have become chief of police? The rules clearly state that no one with a prior arrest history can be qualified for service- much less leading a whole department.

You start to ask more, see what else he knew about your boss, but stop. It wasn’t your business. Not right now at least- you could go sherlock later. Right now you just wanted to have a relatively normal lunch date.

“Were you able to check the contacts I sent you?” Rust suddenly asks.

You shake your head. “Everything lead to a dead end. I guess the Fakes’ haven’t contacted them since you disappeared.”

He looks surprised. You take another sip of your water and continue, “I think I’m going to head back home after this and take a look at the files. See if I can find something to start from.”

“I thought you had to stay at the station to work?”

“Apparently not. Joel, the one I told you about, practically screamed at me when I walked in the door. He got in my face and said they didn’t have enough desks to allow me to work from there and to just go home. But I’m pretty sure it was just an excuse to tell me to go fuck off and get rid of me.”

“Man, dude sounds like a real dick. I wonder what his problem is.”

You merely grunt in response. He didn’t know the half of it. You take another fry from his plate and pop it into your mouth. The scent of freshly grilled burgers and hot dogs wafted through the air over your table. Another horn honked from somewhere behind you.

Rust leans forward. “So on a different and better note, I’m doing a drop later today. Over five pounds. You in?”

“How is that better? Also, in for what? Watching you get busted?”

“Well it would be nice to have you there in case shit hits the fan, ya know? In case the client squealed? You are still a cop, aren’t you?”

You give him the eye. He sits back, pouting. 

“Fine, fine, I get it. New job, new you and all. I won’t ask you out to do fun stuff anymore.”

You snort and start picking up the trash from your table, Rust doing the same. The two of you stand.

“It’s not that I don’t want to- well it kinda is. But I think starting on this case as soon as possible is the best way I can handle my time right now. Burnie wants the report by Friday, so I might as well start finding some clues. If I don’t, he’ll probably fire me saying I was inefficient or lacked the drive or some shit.”

You both throw away the trash and stack the trays above the bin. Rusty walks you towards the front of the restaurant, lingering back a few steps in the shadows. He pulls his hood up. 

“Do you need some cash for a cab?” He asks.

“I think I’ll be alright.” You tell him, “I kinda want to walk by myself for a little bit.”

He looks hesitant to leave you. You smile and assure him you were going to be fine. Your apartment was only a few blocks away. Plus, you were a cop. Nobody was going to mess with you.

You heard him mutter something under his breath but before you can ask him to repeat what, he swivels on his heels and walks off. Turning, you follow his lead and begin walking to your building. 

The infamous traffic of Los Santos was beginning to show it’s true colors as cars lined up at the lights in the masses and drivers laid down on the horn when somebody got a little too close. The sidewalk grew in its own traffic as well and you do your best to make it past groups of people and across the streets before the intersection lights flicker green. 

About halfway to your apartment, the increasing feeling of eyes on you make you slow pace. It was a tingle in the back of your mind that kept growing. You look around for a moment, scanning the area. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary. You continue walking.

Two more blocks pass and the feeling still wouldn’t go away. What the hell-? Unable to ignore the feeling anymore, you stop abruptly in the middle of the street crosswalk to spin and look around again, frustrated. There was an older gentleman sitting on the bench to your left, but he wasn’t paying attention to you. He was more focused on the newspaper he was holding. A small group of women were standing around talking outside a tavern to your right. Same story, they paid you no mind.

Then you look behind you. And your heart drops when you see it. That car…

To the side of the street, a large black car waited just off to the side of the traffic light, perched slightly up on the sidewalk. It’s an older version of the Roosevelt. The frame is coated dark black with a bright green logo on the side. The windows were completely tinted as well, not allowing a single glimpse of who was inside. Your eyes drift down to the front license plate. 

00MOGAR

Even with the bright daytime sun beating down against your skin, you felt cold. Was this an instance of being in the “same place-same time”? Your mind had already answered that and there was an easy way to find out if it was true. You quickly hurry off the crosswalk and make a right, following along some of the store fronts. After a few yards, you glance back.

The car had followed. It moved slowly and the moment your head turned to look, it stopped, pulling up against the sidewalk once more. 

Being followed is not for the faint of the heart. It’s a game of cat and mouse. And you were definitely not enjoying feeling like the mouse right now. Remembering a previous incident of being followed home after work, you knew you needed to hurry up and get out of there. Your life could be on the line.

Looks like you would be getting a cab after all. 

You duck into a nearby shop, a local clothing store. The woman behind the desk welcomes you. You give a nod back and pull out your phone, dialing the local cab company. While it rings, you pretend to look through the racks, sparing glances out the window by the door. 

The voice of a middle-aged man answers the call and you relay your location. He tells you to wait where you were and a driver would arrive shortly. You hang up. From the corner of your gaze, you see the lady at the desk eyeing you. Grabbing a random pull over top and hat, you walk over to the desk, laying down the items. She quickly scans them and you try not to wince as she reads out the price. If you were going to buy things to cover your identity again sometime soon, you needed to remind yourself to check the price tag first. 

You pay and step off to the side, pulling on the top and stuffing your hair neatly into the hat. After that, you check yourself out in a mirror. It wasn’t the best disguise but it hid the top of the police uniform and your hair for the most part. A taxi pulls up on the curb outside and you rush out to meet it. Climbing in, you glance back for a moment at the Roosevelt.

It had parked across the street from before but the engine remained running. 

You face forward, scanning the cab for the small mark on the glove compartment. When you find it you hide your face, disguising your voice as well. 

“I can get you a kilo within the next 32 hours as payment if you drive me without question.”

You hear the driver shift in his seat as he turns to look back at you. A pause. Then,

“Shit, fine by me.” 

The car begins rolling and you let out the breath you didn’t realize you had been holding. It worked. Your mind screamed at you and guilt knotted in your stomach. Rust was going to be pissed. This would easily add up to an entire week’s paycheck for him but there was no way you had any money left over to pay the driver. You cross your fingers in hopes he would understand.

You glance out the back window, noticing that the Roosevelt hadn’t moved. However, as the cab reached the next stop light, it suddenly shot forward and began to move again. Looks like your disguise hadn’t completely fooled them. You turn back to face the front. 

“Turn left up here,” You tell the driver and he does so. 

You were now heading away from your apartment but that didn’t matter. If these guys were going to give chase, you were going to let them have it. You continue to direct the driver until the two of you reach the suburban side of town, your new friends following close behind. The cab pulls into a col-de-sac and the driver looks back for instructions. You quickly duck your head. 

“Turn around, we’re going back south.” 

The man grunts in reply, turning up the radio. The cab spun around and you peek up to stare out the window, gaze meeting the empty abyss of the fully tinted windows. Even though you couldn’t see inside, you felt numerous eyes on you. It sends a chill up your spine. 

The hope here was that you were sending the message that not only were you fully aware of their antics- you had time to toy with them too. But the situation was an extremely risky move as well. Whoever was behind those windows could be armed with a vendetta. They could ram the back of the cab, do a pit maneuver, and put the cab under fire or worse. It was best not to let them get too close.

“Can you go a little faster?” You call over the music. 

The driver complies, and you feel the car pick up some speed. Your followers do the same. As the cab approaches your apartment, you tear off a piece of paper from a corner of one of the files in your bag and scratch an address for the driver to meet Rust at. 

“Slow down up here, the white building. I’m getting off there.” 

The cab parks and you slip the note through the window. “He’ll meet you at 3. Tell him R sent you. And thanks for the ride.”

“ _Thank you_ , little lady.” He calls as you move out the car and jog over to the front doors of the apartment. The Roosevelt had just finished turning the corner once you stepped inside. 

The elevator ride up felt longer than usual. Your heart was beating rapidly and you had to remind yourself that you were safe now. They couldn’t get into the building. You allow yourself to relax. Getting off the elevator and hurrying to your room, you unlock and open the door. The lights were off this time. You flick them on and close the door, locking it and taking a step back. 

A small beam of pride swelled inside you. You had gotten away. 

You move into the dining room and set down your stuff on the table. Your bag makes a small clunking noise and you mentally make note to check whatever had made it later. For now, you head upstairs to change clothes. The last thing you wanted to do today was go back outside. Besides, you doubted Joel would appear on your doorstep and yell at you for not being in uniform. 

Okay so maybe he might. But the likelihood of it was rather low. He seemed busy earlier. Right now, you would focus on looking over the documents Gus provided you with in the comfort of some comfy sweatpants, an old shirt, and some fuzzy socks. 

You unlock the office room door and walk inside, flipping on the light. The papers were in their box right where you left them. You walk over and sit down in a cheaply made chair, it straining under your weight. 

The box wasn’t a problem to open. You cut off the tape from the top and tear off the lid with ease. Inside lay dozens, if not almost a hundred different files, each with their own paper tags sticking out and paper clips holding loose forms together. 

You breathe in deep. Here we go. 

You move through the leaflets one page at a time, scanning for anything noteworthy. Most of the records came from 911 transmissions and testimonies from witnesses ranging from store clerks to the fire department. Some were detailed reports over heists and casualty connections. Others were on as basic information as places the crew were known to frequent for lunch. 

It didn’t take long to establish some basic facts and leads. You had already gotten the hierarchy of the crew down, with Geoff Ramsey at the top and their newest recruit, Jeremy Dooley, at the bottom. However, by the looks of it, this Jeremy guy was moving through the ranks at a startling rate. Your curiosity begs for more and you dig deeper into the papers for an answer.

In one of the more recent files, you find something about a heist he had led a few months back. He had kidnapped the Maze Bank President and FIB informant, Mr. Kerry Shawcross in the attempt for a hostage negotiation in which eight million dollars were on the line. You remembered the scene vividly on the news from when you first transferred to LS. Unfortunately for both parties though, the negotiation never went through. Mr. Shawcross died before they could get him in a plane and airborne. 

You shake your head. That poor man…

Most of the other heists were similar like that as well. Either they all failed, one person made it out, or whatever they were trying to steal got destroyed in the process. Was this really the crew that was said to bring the city to its knees?

It was then that one paper in particular catches your eye. You pull out a booking report and scan over the mugshot and basic info. In the picture sat a bloody, beaten figure. They had curly brown hair that was matted down with a red substance, probably blood. The man’s face was scrunched up, swollen eyes burning with hate. You read the name beside it.

Michael Jones.

Hm... Michael Jones... Why did that sound familiar? Your attention is drawn to one of the files you had missed. Buried under the mess of papers, you swat the cover clean to get a good look at it. Your eyes flash. It was the file Matt had handed to you when he first offered the assignment. 

Quickly clearing off the desk, you spread out the file and open it. Your eyes glance over the sheets then stop on the faces to the left of the spine. Goosebumps rush up your arms. You knew you had seen that face before.

Suddenly feeling the adrenaline kick in, you jump to your feet, searching frantically for a specific file you had just examined. Once found, you rip out the page, setting it next to the pictures, moving to other files and doing the same thing. Your movements become more wild. The sound of pages fluttering to the floor equaled to the intense roar in your ears. 

You were onto something. Something bad.

The table quickly ran out of room so you hurry into the living room where you had yet to unpack your office supplies from their box. You dig inside, searching for and pulling out some tape, and run back to the room. You move the pages to the giant whiteboard displayed on the wall and begin posting the sheets to the slick surface. 

All your movement around the room grew physically tiring but inside you begin to feel light and excited. Once all the pages you needed were displayed, you step back to get a better look at the finished product. 

A mess of articles and pictures littered the whiteboard unevenly but you knew exactly what you were looking at. You trace the connections between each picture and report. 

Gavin “Vav” Free. Records estimate his time in Los Santos is roughly about five and a half years, the second longest of the Fake’s crew members. Imprisoned twice for reckless endangerment, arrested on 3 counts of D.U.I, and led a high speed chase up a mountain side after shoplifting at three Liquor Barns. Not to mention he was wanted for multiple more counts of vehicular homicide. License fully suspended. 

You tap the next photo.

Michael “Mogar” Jones. Estimated time in Los Santos is roughly about five years. Earliest interaction with the police was an arson investigation. Wanted now with several arrests warrants for aggravated assault, vandalism, and drug trafficking. Suspected of killing over a combined one-hundred employees involved the private military, Merryweather, and the FIB. 

You pin your finger against a sketch of the black Roosevelt you had seen earlier. A witness had described the getaway car that had been used during one of the first heists against a 24/7 gas station. You recall Mica telling you its owner was someone who went by the name of M. L. Jones. 

Granted, it was always possible that these weren’t the same M. Jones’. It was a common initial and last name. But with everything you had gathered right now, those chances that it could be anybody else was rather thin.

You knew for a fact that this “Gavin Free” was the one who pickpocketed you. And that the Roosevelt was the car who picked him up. So then, this “M. ‘Michael’ Jones” must’ve been the driver. What did all this mean? You subconsciously shudder. 

Then you remember something. These two were introduced into the Fake A.H Crew a long time ago, and as far as you were concerned, were still heavily involved in the antics. Which meant the exact people you were trying to find, had already found you first.

You freeze, realizing that not only were you just been tailed to your apartment building by members of the Fake A.H Crew, but that you had teased them by acknowledging their presence the entire drive up.


	7. The Fake AH Crew

“This is a load of garbage,” Burnie growls, throwing the report on the desk.

You sit across from him, tense in your uniform and gawking in disbelief.

“Just what exactly is wrong with it, sir?” You demand, “I thought I captured everything you asked for! Everything I wrote was made from connections I found between the files-”

“That’s just it! Where are the safe houses I asked for? The names and faces? This is all stuff we already knew!”

“Stuff you already _knew_ ? You _knew_ Michael Jones was Double-O Mogar?”

“Don’t get smart with me, (L/N),” he snaps. Then he leans back in his office chair and clasps his hands in his lap, frowning, “Let that be your first and final warning.”

You press your lips together with eyebrows drawn. Today marks your first official week at the Rockford Hills department and you were already past considering transferring back to La Mesa. You had stayed up till the wee early morning hours for the past few days typing up everything you could about the Fake A.H Crew. There were bags under your eyes but at least you had finished typing up the twenty-six-page report, right?

Well, that’s what you thought until you arrived at the station. Burnie wasn’t going to make this easy on you and you wanted to know why. The first day of your transfer had passed and yet he was still being an asshole.

Maybe it was just in his DNA.

Or maybe it was something more personal than that... Lindsay said that there were numerous people in front of you for the case. Could one of them be the cranky, dark-haired man seated in front of you now?

“I’m expecting a better report for next week,” he continues, voice drawing you out of your thoughts, “We’ll call today your one-time mistake so no more screw ups, got it? For the next report I want actual locations, contacts, et cetera.” 

He then leans forward and puts his elbows on the desk, “Or, if that’s too difficult, you could always turn in your resignation and return to your quaint little La Mesa by sundown. They always have room for wannabe heroes there.”

“What the hell is your problem with La Mesa?" You blurt before you can stop yourself, "Why do you hate us so much?”

“Us?” Burnie questions thoughtfully before laughing. “So that’s where your weakness is. You still consider yourself to be apart of them, don’t you? I guess Matt does have quite the impression on his... _colleagues_.”

Your mouth drops open and a new reason for your rosy cheeks floods into your face. How did he-? No, not important. Whatever he was trying to insinuate, that was way too far and he knew it. Your hands tremble by your sides as Burnie studies you with delight.

“Would you look at that, you’re actually red with anger,” he hums, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you actually liked being at that dump.”

“And if I didn’t know any better, I’d say it’s a surprise you even became a chief of police!" you bark back, adding, "Given your criminal background and all.”

The second those words left your mouth, Burnie's demeanor changed entirely. The smile on his face disappeared and he went rigid but you don’t get the delight of savoring it. He quickly sits up in his chair and jabs a finger at you, glaring hard.

“ _You are dismissed_.”

You don't move, instead giving him a hostile glare of your own. The room was hot, as if a wave of literal hate had rolled in through the open window beside you. It was only when he stood up suddenly, chair flying back and hitting the ground with a loud crash, that you realized his demand had no room to argue. His anger became a scalding fury as his curt voice lashed out at you once more,

"GET OUT!"

You remain seated for another moment before slowly standing to your feet, maintaining his burning gaze, and pick up the file from the desk. With a small nod, you spin on your heels and move towards the office door without a glance back. However, just as your hand wraps around the doorknob Burnie speaks, this time in low snarl.

“If you EVER say something like that to me again, (L/N), not only will I fire you on the spot, I will make sure you never get a job in the police community again. Do I make myself clear?”

You don’t respond. Instead you turn the knob and open the door, almost bumping straight into Joel. He jumps back from the doorway and you can see that his cheeks are partially flushed. He doesn’t meet your eyes. Why that little-. You scowl and push past him, muttering an “Afternoon, sir” under your breath.

You make your past the flooded yet eerily quiet hallways and lobby. It wasn't hard to notice all the stares you were getting. Walking speed picking up, you try your best to refuse acknowledging them as you make your way outside.

A brisk wind blows past you as you fall onto a nearby bench and meet your face to your hands. You let out a long groan. That...did not go well at all. The audacity of the guy! While you weren’t the type of person to wish harm on others, if that man were to choke on his own arrogance, you wouldn’t be the first to help him. Or the last.

You blow out a long breath, trying to figure out what the hell just happened. When that didn't work, you sigh and sit up, rubbing your temples. A headache was beginning to form behind your left eye. All in all, you were lucky being dismissed was the extent of your punishment for talking back to your chief. If that had been Matt, you really would have been fired on the spot. Then probably rehired right after with an apology. 

A sad chuckle escapes your lips. You wonder how Matt was doing. The two of you still hadn’t spoken since that night last week. You missed hearing his voice. The weight of your phone grows in your pocket and you wonder if you should call him. Just to check in…

No no no, that would be weird. Calling your old boss to catch up or something? That must be against the rules somewhere, right? You shake your head, trying to forget Matt and his smile. The way he looked at you during dinner and drinks. The way he started leaning forward on the sidewalk, eyes beginning to close…

You stomp your foot and shake your head harder. No! No, you were not doing this. The man was married! You could not romanticize him!

You run a hand through your hair in frustration. You needed to distract yourself before this could continue. Pulling out your phone, you check the screen and are surprised to find an unread message sent less than a minute ago. From an unknown number. You scroll through the text, eyes narrowing.

_I'll see you at 3255 Normandy Dr._

You sigh. Rusty could never send a normal message, could he? But with the day you’ve been having, you were willing to overlooking it for now. Maybe he needed help with something.

You input the location on the gps on your phone. Looks like it was near the top of Vinewood Hills- way too far to walk to.

You stuff the failed report in your bag and dial up the cab company. It rings a few times before a mans voice, different from the normal operator’s, answers.

“Hello?”

“Hi, I’d like to request a cab?”

There was a short pause, then, “Oh! Right. A cab. Yeah, sure thing. It’ll be there soon.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Don’t you need to know my location?”

“Um…Yes, yes I do. What is your location?”

You tell him. There’s clicking of keys on a keyboard.

“Perfect. There’s a cab on route to your location. Is there anything else I can help you with today?”

“Just the cab will do. Thanks.”

“Well it is our goal to make sure you have excellent cab service so if you feel like we have done so today, you can always go online and rate us on www.driveourcustomersaway-”

The voice suddenly cut out and you blink, looking down to check the screen. The call was still going. You call out hello a few times before hearing the tone of the call disconnecting.

“That was weird,” you mutter while staring at the phone screen.

Looking up, you check both sides of the street. After a few moments, a cab comes into view and begins heading in your direction. You stand to your feet and brush off the pants of your uniform before starting towards it. It pulls up to a stop beside you and you open the door, hopping inside.

“3255 Normandy Drive, please.”

The driver nods and eases back onto the street. You watch as the station slowly grows more and more distant in the rear window. Part of you is relieved to have it out of your sight. After all, with how today went down? You severely doubted you were going to have to deal with your boss for a while. But that's what the other part of you was worried about. You had that sickening feeling that things were only going to get worse with the department from here. And you didn't want to see why. 

As the cab approached the beginning of the rolling hills of Vinewood, the driver suddenly speaks up,

“I heard your call over the radio. I just wanted to apologize for the operator today. It’s his first time doing this kind of thing.”

You let out a small laugh and turn to face him. “It’s fine. I guess I kinda figured.”

"Have you been in the city for long?”

“Well I've lived in Los Santos for a few months. Almost about a year now that I think about it,” you answer simply. "But as for the city, I just transferred here about a week ago."

“Really? Only that long?”

You’re curious why he sounds so surprised but push the urge to ask aside, “Yeah, I was just moved over to the Rockford Hills police department.”

"Do you ever consider leaving and going back home?"

“Um, no. Not really. Why would would I do that?"

"This city isn't exactly the safest place for women, cops especially."

You give a half smile, "Well I guess that's why I'm here. I want to make this place safe for everyone.”

Your driver doesn't respond to that. You see him glance back at you for a short while in the rear view mirror before returning his focus to the road.

“You seem like a smart girl," he finally says, "I just meant that it’d be a real shame if you got hurt on the departments account.”

This time you're the one who's silent. Was that supposed to be some weird attempt at a compliment?

"So uh, what about you?" you ask, trying to change the subject. "Are you from Los Santos?"

His eyes flicker back in the rear-view mirror at you again.

“No. Not really.”

The conversation abruptly ends after that. You uneasily return to looking out the window, watching house after house pass. The cab shakes every now and then and the engine roars slightly louder as the hills grow steeper. You check your gps again. The house was only about a half mile away now. Sitting up, you turn to study the inside of the cab.

The interior had definitely seen some better days. The back seats had tears and scratches along the fabric. The ceiling was the same story. A crusty brown stain covered a good portion of the floor and, remembering similar stains in the back of your old patrol car, you silently pray it’s some kind of spilled drink.

Your eyes then drift to a card displayed on the dashboard. It was the driver’s identity papers, much like a license. You read the name and look at the picture.

Huh?

Narrowing your eyes, you reread the card and scan the picture before looking to your driver.

The man driving you was definitely not the forty-year-old Asian woman labeled in the picture. He was a Caucasian male in his late 20’s with long black hair tied in a ponytail. White and black smudges on the skin around his face suddenly became abundantly clear now. You lean forward to get a closer look. Yes, that was face paint. But why would your driver be wearing face paint?

Wait a second…

Oh no.

You slowly begin to reach for your holster.

“Something wrong?” The driver suddenly asks, peering at you in the mirror again.

Your hands fly away from your side and back into your lap. “No! No, nothing’s wrong…” you sputter. But you couldn’t shake that feeling. It was the same one you had when you were followed to your apartment.

“Are we there yet?” You ask nervously.

“Almost. It’s just around the corner.”

Through the front windshield, you see a house appear over the hill. Or rather, part of a house appears. The place was under construction. As the cab edges closer, you see the workbenches lined up around the outskirts of the property. A saw rested on a table along with various other tools. Paint buckets were stacked neatly along the sidewalk. The house was completely abandoned.

The cab rolls to a stop and the driver puts it in park.

“Here we are.” He chimes, gazing out the passenger side window.

You didn’t answer. You look out at the house then turn back to him. You heart leaps to your throat when you recognize the gleam of metal pointing out from under his jacket at you. He watches your terrified expression in the mirror and turns back to face you.

“Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to wait for me to open the door, then you’ll step out and walk with me to the front door. If you say a word or make a noise from here on out, I will not hesitate to put a round clear through your skull. Got it?”

You open your mouth but nothing comes out. Slowly, you nod. The man nods back and opens his door and gets out. Before you could even think about reaching for your own gun, the door flies open and the barrel of his AP pistol waves inches from your face. Your body instinctively tries to back away but his hand flashes out and grabs your upper arm, pulling you from the car with ease. You stumble to your feet and he gets behind you, pressure appearing on your lower back.

“Move,” he commands softly in your ear.

Your legs are shaking, and your elbows tuck themselves tight by your side in an effort to make yourself as small as possible. The two of you move in unison up the sidewalk to the front door. Your mind is racing. What was going on? Was he going to kill you? This can’t be happening. You were not being kidnapped right now!

But you were.

Once at the door, the man lowers his gun as he reaches around you and bangs his fist loudly against the wood. You jump and let out a squeak at the fierceness of it.

So much for being quiet.

You can feel the man’s eyes burning on your back. Before you can wonder if that was going to be the end of you, the door flies open and another man appears. You blink, almost blinded by how bright his outfit was. It was a neon purple tux with an orange shirt underneath and yellow pants. On his head rested a white cowboy hat. He looks out the door and scans the area.

“Nobody followed you, right?”

Your breath leaves you for a second time and your mouth falls open, “Wait, you’re the guy from the phone-!”

The pressure against your back instantly disappears and is replaced against your skull. You immediately shut your mouth and squint shut your eyes, letting out a quiet whimper.

“What did I just say?” The man mutters.

“Vaga- don’t.” The second man warns. “We still need her.”

It felt longer than it should have but eventually the weight was removed.

“Fine.” The first man replies. “She’s all yours. I need to go pick up Gavin.”

Gavin? Adrenaline pumps hard into your veins as the light bulb clicks. Vaga as in The Vagabond. Gavin as in Gavin Free. And the man in front of you, without a doubt, must be Jeremy Dooley. Three of the six members of the crew you were ordered to find.

Behind you, footsteps retreat back to the road and the car door opens and slams shut. Seconds later, the engine hums and the car pulls away. You’re too terrified to look back.

Jeremy opens the door wider and grabs hold of your shoulder and pulls you inside the house.

You immediately find yourself in a small hallway. Closed doors rested on each side of the hall before it spit out into a much larger room, most likely a living room. The walls were bare and chipped, and remnants of fabric on the floor showed where some carpet had been pulled up, leaving only a sun bleached wooden panel in its place.

Jeremy leads you into the main room. In the back, a large blue tarp covers half of a pair of sliding glass doors. To the left, a brick indoor fireplace rested against the adjacent wall. The only piece of furniture was a single wooden chair waiting in the middle of the room. It had the same brownish stain as the cabs splattered over it.

Your eyes dart around, scanning the room. Nobody else was in here except the two of you. If you could reach your pistol or distract him for a second, maybe you could make a run for it back out the front door.

Weight on your shoulders push you down, forcing you to take a seat in the stained chair. You comply. Seconds later you feel hands searching around on your duty belt, jumping when they wonder a little too close for comfort. The sound of clanking metal echoes throughout the empty room as he pulls out your handcuffs, moving your arms so they are behind your back. He clicks in one of the cuffs.

Now or never (F/N).

You whirl around suddenly, yanking the other cuff from his hand and standing to your feet. His expression changed from stoic to surprised as he reaches out in a frantic attempt to grab you. Using the other cuff as a makeshift knuckle duster, you punch him as hard as you can. He stumbles back, gripping the area by his ear. You hit him again before he could dodge. This time your fist lands on his cheek, closer to his mouth. He stumbles back further, gripping the spot and leaving you plenty of distance. This was your chance.

You move to turn and run but a pair of hands wrap around you from behind! You scream loudly! Whoever it was holds you tight to their chest and pins you to the spot. You make another attempt to scream, this time for help, but one of the hands slams against your throat. You cough and sputter.

“Stop struggling!” Another male grunts as he tries to tame you.

You desperately fight harder, feeling your breath start to leave as the pressure around your neck increases. You grip their arm tightly in your hand, digging your nails into their jacket. He thrashes you back and forth in his grip, trying to get you to lose balance but you hold firm, instead stomping hard on his foot. He curses loudly but doesn’t let go. Then, without hesitation, you throw your head back as hard and as fast as you can, hearing the satisfying sound of a bone crunching. The arms fall loose and you slide from their grip, gasping and spinning around to see who assaulted you.

Michael “Mogar” Jones.

He clutched his nose and looks up at you from under narrowed brows. Blood already began dripping from his nostrils. 

“You’re going to pay for that,” He hisses.

Before you could reach for the gun on your belt, Michael tackles you to the ground, pinning you firmly on your back. The two of you wrestle and struggle in each other’s grip. You attempt multiple times to hit him but he easily doges your fist. You then watch helplessly as his arm reels up and delivers a substantial blow to your side, sending you crying out in pain!

In the fuss, the sound of metal meeting hardwood stops you and your assistant almost instantly. You watch your pistol as it tumbles out of its hostler and hits the floor, sliding a few feet away. Everything turns quiet. You and Michael flash to look at it then lock eyes. Then hell breaks loose.

He jerks your head into his chest before slamming it backwards against the floor. It makes a sickening thud and you wince, groaning as the room starts to spin, stars wheeling about your vision and a loud ringing takes over your hearing. Michael jumps off your stomach and starts to run to the weapon. Even as the world flashed in black and white, you lash out a hand, grabbing his foot mid-stride. He stumbles, arms flailing before falling hard on the ground next to you. You see him make a desperate attempt to grab the pistol. His fingertips brush the metal. You frantically latch on and pull him back! You could not let him get it!

With an impatient growl, Michael flips over and raises his leg to kick you off. You duck and roll out of the way just as his foot goes sailing past where your face once was. You take the opportunity of his mistake to scramble on top of him, using your weight to pin him down. He tries to wriggle free and throw you off but you mount yourself firmly on his waist, reeling back your arm and slamming it down against his already broken nose.

He howls out and you deliver another hit.

And another.

And just as you ready yourself to land a final blow, you stop short. Your trembling fist hesitates mere centimeters over the bleeding mess you made.

The house is silent spare the heavy breathing from the two of you. When had the room gotten this hot?

Slowly, your gaze shifts upwards to look at the man you neglected to keep an eye on since the fight began. Jeremy stood off to the side, mouth firm and eyes burning. His hat remained on the ground, exposing a mess of his short brown hair. A reddening spot on his cheek showed exactly where he would have a bruise in the next few hours.

He glowers at you. And in his hands, your gun. 

“Get off him.” He snarls, the pistol pointing directly at the center of your rib cage.

You raise your hands in a slow, nonthreatening manner, sitting up as well. It took all the effort you could muster not to let your panic show, but you knew what you looked like: wild hair, eyes wide in fear, and entire body tense and trembling. Even your lip was quivering from all the adrenaline. You mentally curse at yourself. How could you have forgotten to keep your eye on him?

Jeremy keeps his sights locked on you as you move off Michael and scoot backwards a few feet. He waits a moment before reaching down to the matted, curly-haired brunette and offers a hand. Michael takes it, stumbling to his feet and wipes below his nose with his sleeve, bright red blood streaking across his upper lips and cheek. They both stare down at you, Michael's hands remaining in fists, still ready to fight.

“Michael, cuff her.”

There was no argument from either side. Michael grabs the other handcuff from your grip and with one swoop, has your hands clamped tightly together behind your back. As he moves back, you see a glint spark in his eye. His leg suddenly jerks back and you tense, letting out a cry as his foot collides with your gut. You fall back, doubling over gasping for breath as he steps away.

“Is everything okay in there?” Someone suddenly calls from the hallway near the front door.

Yes! You writhe on the floor, hoarsely screaming for help! Michael glances at the door then to you. He smiles slightly.

Then the voice answers, 

“I wasn’t talking to you.”

Every ounce of hope you had burned to nothing but ash when the body of the voice steps into view. His suit gleams under the lights and you freeze. Then you groan.

Geoff Ramsey, leader of the Fakes, had entered the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No joke, this chapter took probably 3 months to write, edit, and finish (Most of my chapters were prewritten earlier this year before I got my account). Because of all the effort it took I'd like to just mention my inspiration for the cab scene came from the "Crazy Taxi"-Let's Play. 
> 
> As for the next chapter, please allow another week or two for that. I'm finishing up a semester at college and need some time to wrap up finals. 
> 
> Thank you and I'll see ya next time.


	8. The Deal With the Devil Himself

Rough, calloused hands pick you off the floor and slam you down into the hard seat. A low grunt of pain slips from your mouth as you try to blink the room into focus. There’s the sound of footsteps retreating and a deep shade of black comes into your view as the tux-fitted man positions himself directly in your line of vision. You struggle to glare up at him, feeling the numerous sore spots beginning to form on your body. 

He doesn’t say anything and his expression is hard to read. You would have expected him to look proud, cocky even. But no. To your surprise, he almost appeared uneasy behind those ocean blue eyes as he studies you. The silence stretches and before long, you force yourself to look away, unable to keep your stare with the gang leader.

Your attention switches to the two over by the tarp covered doors where Jeremy and Michael waited with their guns drawn. You spot Jeremy with a much larger weapon out this time, a special carbine by the looks of it. In his holster rested your pistol. You’re struck with curiosity as to where the other gun had come from. Did he have that during the fight? Even if he didn’t, where the hell did he get it from? And was that a minigun Michael was holding?

You look back to the man before you. Even though he wasn’t holding a gun, you were sure he was somehow still armed. No gang member, especially a leader, would be so stupid as to be unarmed in this kind of situation. There was likely a pocket in his suit housing a concealed weapon of sorts. You’ve seen it all before. 

You scowl, trying your hardest to sit up straight and not look frightened, just pissed.

Geoff finally breaks into a small grin at this and leans down to you,

“First thing’s first. Let me spare you the introduction of who I am, as I’m sure you already well know my name and business. And let me also clearly state that I know who you are as well. So if you really want to try and act tough, I advise you to rethink your strategy.”

You hold his gaze for a long moment before turning away with a huff. “Permission to speak?”

The question takes him aback and he shares a look with the others.

“Uh…go for it?”

“Fuck you.”

He straightens back to his normal height, unamused. Turning his back, the floor squeaks quietly as he takes a few steps away. 

“He said you were feistier than the others,” he mutters, only loud enough for you to hear, then resumes to his normal volume, “But that doesn’t change anything. The reason we’re here remains the same.” 

He looks over his shoulder, “You’re leaving the city on the next flight.”

You hear startled beginnings of protest from the two by the door but they are quickly stopped by a look from their leader. You can’t help but be struck by confusion yourself. 

“What? And why would I do that?”

“Because you wouldn’t be the first body buried under this house,” he answers simply, “And you certainly won’t be the last.”

His lips twist into a small smile when he sees your face pale and eyes dart to the floorboards. He then faces the two by the door, “Where are the others?”

Jeremy lowers the carbine to check his phone. “Gav says they’re close. They have Jack with them too.”

“Perfect. Tell them to meet up around front. We’ll be leaving shortly.”

The shorter man nods and steps outside with the phone to his ear. Geoff’s attention turns back to you.

“You have two choices. One, leave on the next flight. No goodbyes. No mentions of what transpired today. Nothing. Or two, I let my boys take care of whatever remains of your body when we’re done here. What will it be?”

“My boss will find you,” you mutter without hesitation, “and when he does, I’ll be right there next to him to lock you away forever.”

He gives you a once over before making a clicking noise with his mouth. “Alright.” He turns to Michael, “Do it.”

The curly haired brunette steps forward and you hear the minigun begin turning. It intensity of the sound of the gears as they spin faster and faster sends your heart into your throat. You snap your head over to look at him just as his fingers brush the trigger.

Then your heart stops altogether as a massive boom shakes the house, sending the two men stumbling for balance. At first you think it’s an explosion by the fierceness of the sound and cower down in the chair to protect your head. Michael and Geoff duck as well, arms flying to cover their heads too. The crashing rumble then goes quiet and a new sound takes its place. There’s a scream and at first you can’t place where it’s coming from until you hear a smack of something hitting the ground hard outside the door.

Michael is the first to break from the shock, running outside with his minigun ready to fire. However, you see him stop just short of the doorway. His shoulders slump and he scowls.

“Gavin! What the hell?”

“It’s not my fault!” A British accent immediately cries back, “Ryan parked on the roof!”

The ceiling groans, straining under an invisible weight as if to validate his claim. There’s a pause. Then,

“Michael! You look like bloody hell! What happened?!”

“The girl slipped her bondage and landed some good hits on him,” Jeremy answers for him, groaning. You guessed the Brit had hit him on the way down.

There’s muffled laughter, “You got beat up by a girl?”

“Shut the fuck up, Gavin.” Michael snaps back.

You turn back to Geoff who was wide-eyeing the door in disbelief. He puts a hand over his forehead and sighs before turning his attention back to you. You cock your head to the side.

“Are they always like this?”

Geoff tightens his lips into a thin frown. “I’m not here to make friends with you.” 

“Well if you haven’t noticed, I’m not either,” You try to ignore the fact that your hands are visibly trembling behind your back and continue, “Tell you what, Mr. Ramsey. Let’s talk one-on-one. You and me. I have no intention on leaving Los Santos and I’m sure together we could come to a much better and less deadly conclusion than what you’ve offered.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Fine,” You reply, “I didn’t think it would come to this but…”

You stand from your chair and raise your arms, no longer handcuffed. The action, though simple, caught the renowned gang leader off guard. He jumps and cries out, whipping a pistol from his jacket in surprise. So he was armed…

You hold your hands up beside your head to show you weren’t going to hurt him but continue to glare, “If you want to come to an agreement, let’s keep this clean and talk in private. There’s no need for all these distractions.”

“How did you get out of your bindings?”

“Bind-? They used my own handcuffs, genius. You think I don’t have the keys that go to them?”

It was at that moment that Jeremy and Michael followed by three others walk into the room. Their timely appearance causes you and Geoff to look over at them and the crew stops mid-stride, alarmed by the scene before them. The first two raise their weapons, ready to fire, but Geoff holds up a hand to stop them. His expression remains serious as he studies you. Your eyes lock with his.

“Fine,” he finally agrees, lowering the weapon. “If you really think you want to do this, we can talk. But I’m bringing one crew member with.”

You open your mouth to argue that bringing another person wasn’t part of the deal but he quirked his eyebrows as if to challenge you. Your mouth clamps shut. You were lucky to have even gotten this far at all.

“Fine by me.” You force yourself to say.

Geoff gestures for one of the members, a female, to come over. She looks just as startled as the others. It was obvious a situation like this had never happened before, or at the very most, been granted.

As the two lead you back to the hallway and into a room on the side, you glance back at the others. The tallest member catches your eye. You try to suppress a shiver. Who in their right mind wore a skull mask in broad daylight?

Geoff guides you into the room. It’s a small, make-shift office by the looks of it. A computer and some tech equipment top a fold-out table and there’s a microphone off to the side with wires going in almost every direction.

This must be where Jeremy hacked into the phone call.

Geoff falls into a chair and you follow lead in another. The woman stands by the door, arms crossed and watching.

“So,” he begins, “What agreement are we supposed to be coming to? I’ve already given you more choices to choose from than you deserve.”

“I don’t think you understand,” you respond, sitting straight, “I don’t plan on leaving. Not so easily.”

“Easily? Look kid, you either leave or you die. We aren’t going to pay to keep you quiet.”

“You don’t need to. Because you’re going to be the one to leave this city instead.”

He practically bursts out laughing at that. “Excuse me? No, I don’t think so. We’ve been here long enough to rightfully establish our names here. I’m not giving that up. Especially not to someone like you.”

“Rightfully establish-? You’ve caused nothing but chaos!”

“Just as rightfully as your police force. I mean, tell me, do you guys get some kind of sick pleasure by killing someone? I mean, you do it all the time but technically it’s legal for you to do. And if my records are correct, wow, do you have your own hit list or what.” He leans forward, chin resting in his hand, a cynical smile on his lips. “Must be nice to act like a criminal and not pay the price for it.”

Your chest unwillingly tightens at that. _How dare he..._ You shake your head. He was trying to get in your mind. You knew you weren't a criminal.

“Leave my work out of this,” you growl.

“Your work is what got you into this, sweetheart. If you had never taken this case, you would probably still be out fighting crime and living the life of a ‘hero’.”

You look away, not wanting to listen to another word that came from his mouth. This wasn’t going in the direction you needed it to. He was wrong. He was the criminal. He was the reason you came to Los Santos. To stop crime. 

This needed to end this soon.

Taking in a long breath to compose yourself, you focus back on the well-dressed man sitting in front of you, “Leave the city.”

“We’re not going anywhere, kid.”

“You’re going to regret that.”

“No, I don’t think I will.” Geoff stands to his feet, bumping the chair back. “And I think I’ve heard just about enough. Our time is up.”

He gestures to the woman, “Jack, show our guest the proper way out.”

You stand as well, watching the woman step forward without hesitation. She begins to reach behind her and you whip around to face Geoff.

“Wait! You don't do this!”

He doesn’t answer. The woman reveals a micro smg and holds it steady to her chest. 

Geoff turns his back to you and gazes at her. “Finish the job.”

“Wait!” You cry, holding your hands out desperately as she comes to face you, arms raising and the sights locking onto you. “Fine, Fine! I’ll leave the city!”

“This discussion is already over! You made your decision!” Geoff barked, “Jack!”

The cocking of the gun seems to echo through the room and you cover your face with your arms and squeeze your eyes shut, waiting to feel the bullets pierce your skin.

So this is how it ends…

Silence.

You wait.

And wait.

Until you slowly open your eyes.

The woman hasn’t moved. Your heart stops once more when you see that her sights are still locked onto you. However, she’s frozen.

Geoff stares at the woman, the same confused look on his face as yours. “What are you waiting for?”

“How desperate do you think she is?” She finally says, her voice quiet but rich and deeper than you expected.

He faces her completely. “What?”

She lowers the gun and shoots him a glance. “The Heist. Don’t we still need one more person?”

It takes him a second before his face lights up and he scowls. “She’s not joining the heist. She’s a cop!”

You search their expressions. 

“A…heist?” You timidly whisper.

Geoff turns to look at you over his shoulder. He glares. The woman turns her attention to you once more.

“You wanted a deal, right? Then how about this. With Geoff’s permission, you work for us for as long as we need you. In return, we let you live and,” she pauses, checking Geoff’s expression for a signal to continue, “we’ll leave the city quietly.”

What.

Your gaze flickers between the two of them. They couldn’t be serious right? You see Geoff put a hand to his mouth in a thinking manner. He nods slowly.

“That might just work actually. A criminal in plain sight…A police officer no less. Nobody would even bat an eye at her,” he mutters to himself. He raises his eyes to yours. “But we need a way to assure her loyalty.”

“Excuse me- wait just a second,” You cry! “Are you really expecting me to just- just join you after all this?”

Geoff walks over to the woman and takes the smg from her hands, examining it. “No,” he answers after a pause, “I don’t expect you to “just join” us.” He looks up and there’s a twisted look in his eyes. “I’m going to have to leave you no choice but to.”

He puts the submachine gun back in her hands and crosses the room, brushing your shoulder with his as he marches over to the desk and picks up a sheet of paper. He passes it to the woman and she leaves the room, pulling out her phone and dialing a number off the sheet. Leaning back against the plastic table top, Geoff grins wickedly. He seemed very pleased with himself.

“Alright, kid. Here’s that new deal you wanted so bad. With your assistance, we are going to pull the biggest heist this city has ever seen. The Ultimate Heist. And once we’re finished, we’ll leave the city.”

You gape in both astonishment and disbelief. “Why the fuck would I help you?”

“Because I think I know what your weakness is. You’ve done your research on us, so we figured we’d do the same for you. The moment Jack left this room, I had her signal our…friend to do us a favor. Right now we have someone watching every person you love directly through the lens of a sniper rifle.”

It takes a moment for his words to register. How could...no. It was impossible! There was no way what he said could be true, you were positive!

You swallow hard, lifting your chin, and boldly meeting his eyes. “You’re bluffing.”

“Am I?” He picks up something from the desk and holds up the two sheets of glossy paper you knew so well.

“These are some cute pictures, huh (F/N)?” He teases, using your first name, “You must love your family a lot. How about your father, (Fa/N), or your mother, (Mo/N)? Oh, what about your brother? The ex-Navy seal? What about him?” He looks at you. “I can name about twenty other people, (F/N). You want to believe I’m bluffing? Go ahead. But if you refuse to join us, I will not wait a second in giving the go ahead to take the lives of your family and friends and then your own. What will it be?”

“You monster!” You scream, hurling yourself a few steps toward him. You were visibly shaking all over now yet Geoff doesn’t react. He simply watches as you begin to pace around the room, trying to wrap your head around what was happening.

He knew the names of your parents. He had the fucking pictures from your locker at work! 

You feel trapped in the horrible reality of the situation. There were odds he was still bluffing, yes. But with what he just told you, with what he knew? The odds were considerably less.

You wanted to sob. And without seeing any other option, you freeze in the center of the room. Where you really going to do this? 

There wasn’t any other choice. 

You face the maniac leaning against the table.

“Fine,” you answer, hating hearing yourself agree to his wishes, “but only on the condition that you stay the hell away from them and you stay true to your word.”

“Deal.”

Geoff pushes off the table and wraps an arm around your shoulder. He leads you from the room and back into the living room, practically dragging you to keep up with his speed. The rest of the crew look up and there’s various reactions to seeing his arm around you. You spot Michael off to the side of the group with a small bit of gauze stuffed up his nose. From the way it crooked slightly to the side, you knew at the very least you had fractured it.

Geoff suddenly stops before them, patting your back and grinning wide.

“Jack, call off the boys. And boys, say hello to your newest crew member.”

There’s surprised shouts and beginning cries of denial but Geoff quickly eyes them again. They turn silent once more.

You frown, shaking his arm off and facing him, “What exactly is going to happen on this heist?”

“You’ll just have to wait and see, won’t you?” He turns to the group, “Bring her to the penthouse. We need to have a meeting.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this chapter late? Yes.  
> Is this chapter dialogue heavy? Yes.  
> Will the next chapter be coming out next week? Mmm...Debatable. I have work and then work 2.0 this week and weekend so I probably won't be able to touch Chapter Nine until early next week. And then it usually takes about 3 days to spruce and edit so...
> 
> Anyways, hope you enjoyed this one. I know a lot of you have been waiting for the crew to officially make their appearance so I'm really hoping this helped satisfy that. The next chapter, spoilers, will be featuring the penthouse and that strange masked guy.
> 
> Enjoy!


	9. The Penthouse

So this is what the Roosevelt looked like on the inside. It wasn’t too surprising in all honesty. Some cigarette burns on the dashboard, beer stains on the cloth floor and seats, and you didn’t even want to know what that was squirted on the ceiling.

Your shoulders were pressed between two heavily thick forms, Jeremy and the Vagabond. The three of you sat in a clump in the backseat while Geoff sat stretched out in the passenger seat with one leg draped over the other and his phone out. Jack, the woman from before, sat behind the wheel, following the directions Geoff read off to her from his gps. Outside the windows, Michael and Gavin were standing on the side of the car, gripping onto the roof to stay on. You could hear them bickering about something but it was muffled by the windows. 

Inside the vehicle however, was deathly quiet.

Piercing gazes from both sides made you feel naked as the two men studied you over intensely. The atmosphere remained thick with uncertainty. Just what had you gotten yourself into?

As the car leaves the rolling hills of houses and enters the city, you finally manage to muster up the courage to glance to your left. And immediately regret it. Vagabond’s electric blue eyes flash as they meet yours from behind the black skull mask. You swallow thickly. You recognized those eyes.

“Why bother with the mask? I already know who you are…” You say, trying to sound confident, but your voice breaks halfway through.

His eyes narrow as he measures you. Out of unsureness or disapproval, you had no idea.

Wishing to get wherever they were taking you already, you change your attention to Geoff.

“What exactly is going to happen now?”

He doesn’t look up from his phone. It was as if you hadn’t even said anything at all. You pout, slumping back against the seat.

“We’re going to the penthouse,” Jeremy answers instead, causing you face him.

“And then?”

“And then… I guess it’s up to Geoff to decide what to do with you.”

The car rocks as it passes over a speed bump. You look out the window, seeing that the crew had pulled into a parking lot behind an apartment complex somewhere downtown. You watch uneasily as the Roosevelt approaches a garage door before stopping. For a minute, nothing happens. Then you hear the grinding of gears as the large white door slowly raises up.You blink quickly as Jack eases off the brake and enters a brightly lit garage. 

It’s a quick parking job and without a word, everyone quickly filters out.

Beside you, Jeremy climbs out first. He then turns and holds his door open, waiting for you to crawl out. You hesitate. Would it really be so bad to just stay in the car? 

You hear an impatient grunt to your left and all hesitation disappears. You glance over your shoulder to see that the Vagabond hadn’t moved aside from his hand on the car handle. He was waiting for you to get out first. With a hard swallow, you turn back to face Jeremy. No way did you want to stay in the car with that...freak. 

You scoot across the seat and step out of the Roosevelt and into the garage. 

Once your foot hits the shiny aluminum floor, you mouth drops in sheer awe. 

The accumulation of wealth in this room had to be well over millions on millions of dollars. A dozen vehicles ranging from sport to off-road to all terrain covered the room wall to wall. In the back, a personal mechanics station. 

A push from behind drew you out of your daze as Jeremy guides you toward the elevator where the others were waiting. The car door slams behind you as the Vagabond climbs out of the car and follows close behind.

As you approach, Geoff still refuses to look at you. The phone is gone but his eyes remained on Jack. They share a few looks and head shakes silently. You scan the expressions on the others as the group waits for the elevator, locking eyes with Michael as your gaze passes by him. 

He gives a hard scowl before turning back to continue talking to Gavin. His words may have been hushed but you had a good feeling their conversation was about you. A few derogatory terms were thrown here and there, but the sight of his bent nose filled you with enough satisfaction to ignore them. You didn’t even realize you were smiling until Jeremy bumped you on the shoulder with his and sent a disapproving look. You frown.

The elevator doors open and the boys crush together to make room. Jack presses the top button labeled “P” and the doors quickly shut. The elevator lets out a groan as it suddenly shoots upwards with extreme force. You tense, hands flying to your side. Wind howls from behind the door as it continued up and up and up, until finally slowing to a rather sudden stop. The bell dings and the door slides open. 

The group filters out, this time Jeremy not bothering to wait for you. He walks into the hallway with the others following right behind.

For a fraction of a second, you debated how fast they could react if you pressed the garage level button again and made an attempt for escape. However, as your hand begins to reach for it, another snaps onto your wrist and pulls it back! You shriek, not realizing the Vagabond was standing behind you. 

“Don’t.” He threatens in a low, chilling voice.

Your eyes widened and you saw his darken with almost cruel amusement at your reaction. 

Disgusted, you jerk your hand away, storming out of the elevator and crossing your arms to your chest uncomfortably. His grip was…stronger than you expected and you were almost sure there would be a glowing red mark on your wrist in the next few minutes, among the other marks you earned today.

Geoff was waiting for you outside the only door in the small hallway. The others had already gone inside and he motioned for you to do the same. You try to get a read on his expression but it remained stoic. There was nothing to read. Just what was going to happen when you stepped inside the room?

Following close behind the gang leader, you enter the apartment.

Looking around, you're surprised to find it had a very similar layout to yours. The large kitchen and living room, a wide glass window that took over the entirety of the front wall, and a door off to the side that most likely had an office behind it. You eye Geoff. 

“What are we doing here?”

“The boys and I are going to start discussing the next step. You will wait in the living room until further notice. Got it?”

“But, what next step? What is this heist about? Money? Property? Cars?”

You catch a small smile tugging at the edges of his lips. He puts a hand on your shoulder and squeezes it. It takes all your energy not to shake him off.

“You’ll find out soon enough.” He then looks over your shoulder, “Jeremy, Jack, and Gav, with me. You two, stay with the girl,” he says, pointing at Michael and the masked man standing off to the side. “Make sure she doesn’t pull anything.”

The kingpin removes his hand from your shoulder, much to your relief, and guides the others through the door off to the side, each one taking one last look at you before going in. You cross your arms. You understood why they might be reluctant to tell you anything, after all, you honestly had no plans on staying with them long. You’ll find a way out.

Hopefully.

You turn your attention back to the two men near the kitchen counter. Michael had his phone out, using the screen to check his nose. He didn’t like what he saw. With a growl, he stomps away toward the front door, muttering, “Tell Geoff I’ll be back later. You can watch the bitch for now.”

And with that, he was gone. 

You watch the front door slam shut, jumping slightly at how loudly it echoed through the room. A period of silence passes and you look over at the Vagabond. He stares right at you. 

Yesh...You glance around the apartment, trying to ignore how creepy he was. You spot empty beer bottles and misplaced cigarettes on the floor and tables. Clothes such as shirts an jackets were thrown over the sides of the couch like nothing and plates needing serious washing waited in the sink.

It was obvious this place wasn't the strictest on cleanliness.

Moving your gaze around further, you notice picture frames along the wall and walk over to study them a bit closer. 

Each frame held a single picture with a small piece of paper next to it. Upon closer inspection, you realized they were pictures taken of the crew members, each in a different location. The paper beside them were clippings from a newspaper, growing slightly more and more bigger as the crew became headline front-page news. The first on the left was a picture of Geoff smiling wide with narrowed eyes. Behind him, a 24/7 shop littered with crime scene tape. The newspaper, in big block letters, writing, “New Crime Boss Steals $1100, Gets Away”. 

The others were startlingly similar. You eye over each, more and more crew members beginning to join in on the pictures. In some they were smiling and laughing and doing goofy poses while in others they had strict stone-faced expressions. You read the clippings.

“Would-Be Gang Attempts Another Robbery”

“The Fake AH Crew, Los Santos Newest Problem?”

“Armored Truck Hit! Fakes Get Away”

“Jets Stolen! Fake’s Strike Again!”

“Multiple Stores Hit in Biggest Heist Yet! Multiple Casualties Reported!”

The next frame...You knew this one. You hesitate to look at it, feeling your stomach tighten slightly. It was a picture of a tv, assumably the one in the other room. On it was a picture of a man. You didn’t need to read the clipping to know who it was but do so anyway. 

“Millionaire, Kerry Shawcross, Killed in Freak Accident. Fake’s Believed to be Involved”

Finally, one of the last ones on the far right was a brand new frame- from the most recent heist, you guessed. The members, all in masks, stood posing in front of a porta potty. A member you didn’t recognize, a woman by the looks of it, stood in the front most of the picture, holding up her hand in some gang sign you didn’t know. You squint your eyes and take a step closer to the picture. Was that...gold sitting in the porta John? 

On the newspaper clipping beside it, “Millions Stolen in Gold By FAHC, Mad Train Escape”.

“So," You start, not really facing him but speaking loud enough for him to know you who you were talking to, "Where’s yours? I don’t see it up here.”

When there was no answer, you turn to look back at him.

And let out a cry!

The Vagabond stood directly behind you, inches away, looking at the frames as well. You hadn't even heard him approach. Your shoulders hit his chest and you bounce back, taking a few steps away. He looks down at you slowly, unreadable.

And that’s when it clicks.

Wait a second…

Why did it take so long for it to dawn on you?! 

A rush of rage pulses through your veins as you march back up to the man in the mask, grabbing the rubber in your fist. The action immediately makes him tense and he flashes up, digging his nails into your arm in attempt to rip it off. You wince but refuse to let go.

“You! You dirty rotten motherfucker!” You scream, shaking the mask in your hand, “You were the one in my room!”

The struggling stops and he instantly stills. You grip harder, letting the furiousness of your discomfort hold tight, “You fucking pervert! That wasn’t a nightmare! You were actually there! You were really in my room that night!”

You were expecting something from him, an explanation, a stammer- something! But no. He remains still and above all, he remains calm. He stares out from you from under the mask, looking almost…proud?

After a long moment he gently reaches up with his free hand and removes your hand from the mask. He holds it in his before saying something you least expected.

“You should wear those shorts more often,” He purrs.

He catches your other hand before it hits his cheek and blocks your leg before it could kick him where it mattered. You slap and hit nothing but air as your actions to lay a hand on him remain futile. Before long, you stumble back a few steps to get distance.

“You’re a monster…” You gasp, feeling your energy fading and cheeks burning from humiliation. He eyes flash with clear amusement.

“Why thank you.”

The door to the office room opens and the black suit you were quickly growing to hate pops into view.

“If you two are done flirting,” Geoff calls from the doorway, “Ryan, we need you in here.”

“Who-” you start to ask when you suddenly feel something on your head. You jump away as the man beside you ruffles your hair before walking over to Geoff. You freeze. The “all feared” Vagabond’s name was…Ryan?

Geoff passes him a weary look as Vagabond- …Ryan, moves past him. Then his attention returns to you.

“I’m sending you home.” 

With a snap of his fingers, Jeremy appears by Geoff’s side. “Take her back to her apartment. And stay close, okay?”

The shorter man nods and moves over to you, putting a hand to your shoulder to guide you to the front door. Yet you refuse to move.

“What? You’re just letting me go? Why?”

There had to be a reason. Why the hell was he just letting you free?

“Trust me,” he smirks, “We’ll know if you squeal.”


	10. The Stakeout

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! So sorry this is so late. I've been dealing with a lot of things all at once and needed a break. I recently lost someone I've known for 18 years and it's been pretty rough. But now I'm back and ready to write! 
> 
> Hope summer is going well for all of you and I should be getting back on a continuous updating schedule soon.
> 
> As always, I'll check this in the morning for errors and fix as needed. For now, I'm gonna go get some well-deserved sleep! Night!

He wasn’t letting you free. At least, not entirely. It was already well into the next week before you even heard anything from the crew again.

For the most part it was quiet. Too quiet. You were left to your own devices and continue as usual. Well…actually not usual at all. Going to work was out of the question and trying to alert anyone, including the police, was as well. Why? Because anytime your foot even remotely touched outside your apartment door or you reached to pick up your phone, something was there to stop you. 

Your phone would suddenly lose service if you happened to dial 911 or an incoming call would block the one you were trying to send out. Text messages refused to go through either. If you stepped out of the building, granted you made it that far, you would catch glimpses of the members loitering just off to the edges of your vision. But when you stopped to take a better look, they were gone. 

It was terrifying.

And they knew that.

You had been successfully shut off from the world and that included your very own workplace. When you couldn’t reach anyone by phone, you tried to get a cab. When you tried to get a cab, none would pick you up. When you said, “Fuck this”, and tried to walk, the Roosevelt would peak around the corner, window rolled down just enough to let you, and only you, see the weapons pointed at you from behind the tinted glass.

You were completely isolated.

Yet today was different. Much different. You had been wandering your apartment for the last few hours, looking at files for information, stress eating, and honestly, simply watching some tv to try and keep calm. You just finished a well-deserved long and hot shower when you received the phone call- the first real call in quite some time. It was brief and even after they hung up, you stood frozen, naked and draped in a towel with water dripping from your hair for what felt like eternity. 

Once you snapped out of your shock, you quickly pull on a nice dress shirt and some jeans and match the belt with a pair of sneakers. Then you make your way back into the bathroom to brush out and style your hair, applying just a touch of makeup as well. 

Giving yourself a once over, you nod in acceptance and begin to make your way to the living room to wait for the Vagabond to pick you up.

Ryan…was picking you up for a date. As in, the two of you were going out to eat or hang out or something- details weren’t very clear.

It felt extremely wrong, there was no doubt about that. Hadn’t the guy tried to kill you the day you met? 

You rub the ghost marks of where his fingernails had marked your skin a few nights back, remembering his almost inhuman grip. The most feared outlaw in the city- the most dangerous criminal in the crew- was taking you out tonight?

Something was up. But you weren’t sure what yet. The two of you had yet to speak since your first meeting. In fact, it was Michael who called to tell you about the date. 

That was possibly the shortest and most passive aggressive phone call you had ever received…You had no doubt he was still upset about the nose thing.

The whole situation was beyond uncomfortable. It felt like one of those weird situations where a guy has his friend ask the girl out because he was too nervous to do it himself. You shake your head, stopping for a few seconds to consider if whether this truly WAS Ryan's first time asking a girl out.

You sigh and pull out your phone to check the upcoming weather for the night. Whatever his story was, it was going to have nothing that you didn’t already know from the files.

Red and orange sunlight had begun to streak the sky outside the massive window in your living room. Its rays penetrated the freshly-installed blinds halfway lowered against the glass and cast long, dark shadows across the room. It was only about five thirty and you knew from the weather app that the sun was supposed to fully set around six forty-five or seven o’clock. You consider bringing your keychain for the cruiser since it had a small light charm on it but ultimately decide there was no use. You didn’t feel like explaining why you had a set of keys with you tonight. You just prayed Ryan wouldn’t keep you out past dark for too long.

The apartment buzzer sounds off and you jump, startled by the sudden noise.

“Jesus (F/N), pull it together,” you mutter.

You walk to the front door and take in a deep breath to compose yourself before welcoming Ryan inside. 

He…wasn’t wearing what you expected. A simple grey shirt under a halfway zipped black hoodie and dark jeans. The mask was gone and his long black hair sat tied back in a loose bun. A pair of dark tinted sunglasses rested on top of his head, pulling back some of the stray hairs curled around his temples. Admittedly not the most date-like apparel...

He wouldn’t look at you at first. Instead, he pushes into the apartment rather quickly and peers around, seemingly looking for something, before glancing at you. His eyes flash.

“No.” He says simply.

“What?”

Ryan points to your outfit. “What you’re wearing. You need to change.”

A muscle flicked in the corner of your mouth in slight annoyance and embarrassment. 

“Sorry,” you huff, “I wasn’t exactly told what we’d be doing tonight so I didn’t know what to dress for.”

“Just hurry up and go change.”

Unbelievable. 

You brush past him and start up the stairs with hands clenched at your sides.

“And less makeup this time, okay?” He calls.

…

A few minutes later you skip down the stairs in a normal t-shirt and jeans. You approach him and do a small twirl. “Better?”

He shrugs as he gives you a once-over. “It’ll have to do.” 

“ _It’ll have to do._ ” You silently mock lip behind his back. 

Glancing up at the clock above the stove you realize it was almost six already. You grab your small purse containing your phone and wallet from the table and sling it over your shoulder, following Ryan’s lead out the door.

The two of you make your way down in the elevator to the front of the building. The ride was agonizingly slow. You sneak peaks at him along the way, trying to get a good read but to no avail. He stood frozen, only watching the elevator doors. You could feel something radiating off of him- nervousness? Uneasiness? You weren’t really sure. All you knew was that neither of you wanted to be in here for much longer.

The elevator finally reaches the ground floor and opens. Ryan is the first out and you quickly follow behind him. You cross the lobby and out the front doors to a black car parked across the street in a No-Parking zone. He unlocks the car door and climbs inside with you doing the same. As you pull your seat belt on, you look around the inside of the car. It was an older Sultan. Nothing out of the ordinary: no trash, no weapons stowed away, and no significant markings anywhere. It looked almost too…normal was a good word. It definitely didn’t match the intimidation or heavily fortified-ness of the other cars you saw in the crew's garage.

As he twists in the key and the engine roars to life, you lean over. “What's up with the old-timey grandpa car? I thought you guys were grade-A luxury type people?”

He doesn't respond other than a short huff. Instead he flips down the sunglasses and reaches over to the middle counsel and turns the radio on, increasing the volume to where you would have to shout for him to hear you. 

You get the message. 

The tires squeal over the music as he tears onto the street.

You brace against the door, hand flying to the bar above the passenger window and gripping it tightly. Ryan sends you a look before focusing on the road and you could almost swear you saw a small smile contrast against his nervous features. But it disappears as quickly as it comes.

It takes almost thirty minutes for the car to reach its destination, a rather shady and secluded bar just inside the Sandy Shores boundary line. The whole time you had been gripping that bar so hard you thought it was going to break off.

As Ryan finally slows down and turns into the parking lot, you send him a strange look but say nothing. He parks in the space closest to the road, turning off the car and watching out the window for a moment.

Without the radio, the silence stretched into an even longer and more awkward tension that hung thickly in the air. 

“You’re a lot smarter than people think you are, aren’t you?” Ryan says suddenly.

Your attention snaps over to him and your brows draw together. Why were those his first words since leaving the city?

He takes your silence as an opportunity to look at you. Even through his sunglasses, the fading sunlight glowed off his skin and made his eyes shimmer in a way you’d never seen before. Everything about his expression said seriousness. Was he doing a very bad job at complimenting you or was he…warning you?

Before you could ask, Ryan turns and opens his door and climbs out. You watch him begin to walk towards the bar and you heave a groan. Either this was a really fucking weird date or he had something planned.

You run to catch up and the two of you walk in together. The lady behind the bar counter sends a monotone greeting to which you and Ryan both send a nod of acknowledgment before continuing into the room. There was a sitting room in the back with two-seated tables here and there and a large pool table in the center. Around it stood four men, laughing and hooting throughout their match.

As Ryan and you take a seat at one of the tables, you mentally take note of the jackets they wore: big and bulky leather ones. A large tire patch appeared on one and skull shrouded by fire was on another. A motorcycle gang, you guessed. They seemed rather harmless at least. Only one of the members had an open carry holster.

Something hard presses against your elbow. You look at Ryan and take the menu from him, opening it and looking at the choices.

“Don’t stare, (F/N).” Ryan mutters under his breath so only you could hear.

That unsettling feeling you knew so well was creeping in. Something about him saying your name just didn't sit right.

You swallow nervously, glancing at the meals but not really looking at them. You glance up to see him doing the same. Letting out a low exhale, you gesture around to the bar room.

“I’ll be honest, I didn’t think this would be your ideal date place.” You offer a small smile, “But I guess we’re all different.”

Your words didn’t make much of an impact on him. His expression remained stern as his gaze swept over the menu for the fourth time. It was almost like he hadn’t heard you. You frown. There was no use, was there? You sigh, shutting the menu. You didn’t really care what you got. Bar’s like this usually served burgers anyway. 

You observe the room a little more. Two other couples were squished into the room at the other tables. They were each engaged in conversation with their partners. At the bar sat three men, two wearing construction uniforms and the other in plain-clothes. The only ones talking were the two construction workers who would bring the bar-tender into the conversation at times. The woman didn’t seem to mind though. She would smile when they called her over to talk.

For a second you almost felt envious. Every woman here had someone to talk to but you. You look back at Ryan. 

Huh?

He was no longer looking at the menu in his hands, though he made it appear he was. But you could see it, he was glancing just ever so slightly off to the bar counter behind you every few seconds. At first you think he’s just people-watching until it suddenly occurred to you. He wasn’t watching. 

He was waiting.

You bite your lip. The noise in the bar around the two of you seemed to become a garble, almost impossible to make out against the sound of the quickening pulse in your ears. You try to pick out the right words.

“Ry-” You start quietly.

The look he sent you made you shut your mouth immediately. His eyes were wide, wild behind his serious expression. You tense. This was no longer Ryan. 

This was the Vagabond.

You almost didn’t hear the dinging bell of the door opening behind you until Ryan’s eyes darted over your shoulder. The muscles around his face softened. You squint at him before slowly turning to look back as well. And your stomach drops.

Ryan sets down the menu and reaches into his pocket. He pulls out his wallet and grabs some cash, not even counting it, and practically throws it at you.

“Go order us some food. And make it convincing.” 

You take the money but don’t stand to do as he said. You give him a startled look.

“Vagabond, why is he here?” You ask, slowly and quietly as to not draw any attention. You see his jaw tense. A foot nudges you under the table. You inwardly groan. This fucking crew…

“Fine. But you owe me a fucking drink after this.”

Standing up from the table, you make your way over to the bar and stand next to a man you were easily and quickly growing to hate.

Geoff stood against the bar with his elbows propping him up. The waitress had already placed a pissweisser bottle in front of him before you got there. His eyes sweep over the room, not looking directly any one place. You frown. His outfit choice was as different as Vagabond’s usual today. He wore a dark black t-shirt, exposing the multitude of tattoos sketched on his arms. He also wore a deep blue beanie and greenish khakis. His hair looked gelled from the front. What were these two planning? 

You stand next to the dark-haired gent and place two orders for burgers along with a beer and a soda, ignoring Geoff in the meantime. You could feel him eyeing you down from the side. The bar-tender rips the order from her notebook and carries it to the back for the cook.

While you wait, you can hear the pool balls clicking against one another and bouncing off the felt walls. The sound of them falling into the holes. The small hits of the pool cubes as the men tap them together when they switch out positions. Every noise felt louder than it really was. You were getting anxious and you knew it. Then,

“I think I made a good choice about you.”

You peer sideways at Geoff who had now turned to face you. You look back at the bar, “And what choice would that be?”

“The choice to have you tonight.”

You gawk at him in alarm. “Excuse me?”

He laughs. But it’s forced. “How about you and me go back to my place after a few drinks tonight?”

“I assumed I already was.” You mutter and hear him cough as if to cover your words.

You crack your neck to the side before glancing back at him. “I’m fine, thanks. I’m already on a date as it is.”

Geoff looks around, pulling his bottom lip upwards. “Well I don’t see anyone here by themself?”

You spit a chuckle of annoyance. “He’s right over-.” Your finger lingers in the air, pointing at the empty table you and Ryan had been sitting at just moments earlier.

You bite the inside of your cheek. Then you laugh coldly. You understood now. A small smile of amusement crosses his lips as he watches you. Before he could say much more, the waitress came out with the two plates, burgers stacked almost half a foot high. A true American meal. You hand over all the money Ryan gave you without a second thought and told her to keep the change. Her eyebrows raised a fraction, but she gladly took the money.

As you turn to head back to the table, a hand on your upper arm stops you. Geoff was smiling strangely. “Since your date isn’t here, would you mind if I had one of those?” Was he mocking you?

“Let me go.” You demand quietly.

“Oh come on, beautiful. One night never hurt anyone.”

Beauti-? Geoff would never call you beautiful in this or any lifetime. You’re about to crack one out on him when Ryan’s words from earlier pop into your head.

_“You’re a lot smarter than people think you are, aren’t you?... Make it convincing.”_

At first you thought it was a warning but you now realized what he meant. It was a hint. You rip your arm from Geoff’s grip, the burgers almost falling off the plate, and hiss at him. “Don’t touch me, you low-life. I know what you’re doing.”

Your response has an immediate effect. Geoff’s eyes narrow in displeasure. His hand hesitates in the air. You size yourself up to him. People were beginning to glance over to see what the commotion is about but you don’t care. This was between the two of you.

You face him once more. Geoff looks much more unsure about the situation now. You step forward into his space, forcing him to back up. He stumbles over a stool, almost failing to catch his balance on the bar table. You growl, the anger in your body fueling you. “You will never have me.”

It made sense to the others in the bar but Geoff clearly understood your real meaning. He wipes his mouth and looks away, standing back up.

It was then that you suddenly became aware of eyes on you. Not the normal “someone’s watching me” because that look was a given by this point, but it was more of the “someone is staring at me hard” feeling. You scan the bar until your eyes fall on one of the men by the pool table.

He was the first man you had observed when you sat down at the table. The one with the large tire patch on his jacket. His thick eyebrows narrowed once the two of you made eye contact. He wasn’t even trying to hide his staring. The other men at the table were still playing, almost oblivious to the scene happening behind them. But this man was glued to his spot, just…watching you.

It was time to leave. 

“Have a good night.” You tell Geoff thickly without waiting for a response. You put down the two burgers in front of the construction workers, both of which gave you surprised looks, and began to move to the front door to leave.

But as you begin to walk away, a loud slap is heard throughout the bar and you stop dead in your tracks. The bar fills with silence. A hard numbness could be felt against your rear end. All eyes are on you. 

You laugh cynically. Then all hell breaks loose.

You swing around and grab Geoff’s arm, hooking your other arm below his pit. You slam down your foot in front of his to throw off his balance before you pick him up on his toes. Hunching low and using all the strength in your body, you pull him over your shoulder and onto the floor. He lands hard, head bashing back on the wooden flooring. His mouth falls open as he gasps for air. He coughs and sputters in shock and pain.

You lean down next to his ear, whispering an “I’m sorry” before standing again.

The bar is silent. Then applause.

You look around and see the other customers clapping for you, mostly other women. You lock eyes with the man at the pool table. He wasn’t clapping.

Geoff sits up and coughs, rubbing his shoulder. He mutters something loud enough for only you to hear, 

“Get him to follow you.” 

You narrow your eyes.

“Why you dirty motherfucker…”

You march out of the bar, furious. The parking lot is empty spare two other cars. Ryan’s car was gone. You growl out of frustration, throwing your head back as you walk away from the building. The sky had changed from its red and orange hues to a blue and purple tint. Stars were beginning to peak through the clouds. It was almost completely dark out now.

A pit of regret pains in your stomach. This was a mission. Not a date. Then again…why were you upset? It made sense in hindsight. Ryan- the Vagabond- wasn’t the type to date. Hell, he wasn’t even the type to be human and want relationships. He was just using you so Geoff could use you so the crew could use you for who knows what. 

But still…

You stand by the road, unsure what to do.

The noise of gravel rocks slipping against one another catches your attention and you turn around, expecting Geoff to be there. But instead find the man. He stops when you see him and when he doesn’t say anything you ask if you can help him. He shifts his footing.

“Are you alright? I saw what happened in there…” He seemed genuinely concerned. You slowly nod, looking back at the road for a moment and picking up one of the rocks, tossing it up a few inches in your hand.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just another jackass wanting to use me, that’s all.” It wasn’t a lie.

The guy seems taken aback by your words. He scratches the back of his neck. “I don’t know how to ask this, but do you know who that man was?”

You tuck your lower lip in slightly with your teeth. What were you supposed to say?

“No, I don’t.” You finally answer.

He tells you that you shouldn’t have done what you did in there. “And why not?”

“You just assaulted one of the biggest names in Los Santos.”

“Yeah, he seems real tough and scary.” You say blandly. “Trust me, I doubt he’s that big of a deal.”

The man gapes at you, clearly confused on why you were reacting the way you were. He takes a few steps forward, “Why aren’t you concerned? You could be hunted for the rest of your life and yet you’re just standing here, talking.”

“Which makes me wonder, why did you follow me?”

“Follow you? I wanted to make sure you were okay!”

“Yeah, but now you seem like you’re threatening me. Telling me I should be afraid. Is there something you know about him that makes you think I should fear him?”

The man grows considerably upset. “That man you just attacked is Geoffrey Ramsey, the leader of the Fakes,” he stressed, “He has a net so big, half of the police force works with him. He’s corrupt as fuck and the main reason this place is the shit hole it is.”

“What…What did you just say?”

He smiles, pleased you finally sound concerned. He moves even closer, now just feet away. 

“I can tell by your eyes that you’re already in trouble. That man has his loyal followers: the invisibles, the ones in power- the ones who are so important they don’t exist on paper. With one word, he has your name, information on your family, and your whole life story in his hands. With one word, he can have you killed. That is,” he pauses, seemingly for effect, “unless you accept my assistance. I can help you avoid him.”

You stare at this guy in front of you…It was making sense…All of it. Geoff knew who your family was, where you had come from. While this man didn’t look as trustful as he seemed, you felt compelled to ask more. You needed to know.

“How…do you know all this?”

“Because I work with some of those ‘pretty important people’. I know which of them aren’t as loyal as he believes they are.”

“And who would that be?”

“If I told you, I would have to kill you.” He says as joke but the undertones behind it were serious.

“Wouldn’t be the first time I heard that…So why not bring this to the police? Why not say something?”

He laughs sickly. “Like I said, princess, half of those pigs ARE on his side. It wouldn’t make sense to rat out his rats to the same people who follow him.” He sticks out a hand, “What do you say? I can make sure he never bothers you again.”

You slowly put your hand against his, feeling the crinkling paper against your skin. The highway from the distance sounds quiet compared to the loud pumping of your heart in your chest. “Look I need to tell you something-” you begin to say.

A car suddenly screeches to a stop beside you. The door opens and Michael steps halfway out, glancing down at his phone. 

“I got your message and came as soon as I could-”. He looks up and sees the man. He glares. “Who the fuck are you? You the motherfucker that was bothering my girlfriend in there?”

The man immediately backs away, “No man, I was just making sure she was safe.”

Michael looks to you for confirmation. You glance between them before walking over to Michael’s car and nodding. “He really was just checking on me. Thanks for coming so quickly…honey.”

“Get in, we’re going home.”

As you climb in and shut the door, he throws the man another look. “Stay the hell away from her, you fuck.”

He climbs in and slams the door shut. You flinch. The car rips away from the curb and begins speeding down the road. You glance back in the mirror to see the man fading into the distance. He watches your car drive further before turning and heading back into the bar.

You face back forward. The car ride is silent. Michael doesn’t bother to look at you. He pulls out his phone and dials a number, all the meanwhile speeding at 90 in and out of traffic. “It’s me. I’ve got her.” He hangs up.

So many questions were going through your head. Michael spares you a glance. He turns back to the road. “Whatever you were told, forget it. In the meantime, you better come up with a good excuse for Geoff. He’s pissed you did that judo shit on him.”

“Maybe he shouldn’t have touched me then.” You mutter quietly.

“Excuse me? You need to remember where you stand right now. You’re not a cop anymore, (F/N). You’re our property until you are dismissed. Understand? If Geoff wants to-”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Fuck you.”

The car slows considerably.

“What…did you just say to me?”

The sign “Welcome to Los Santos” passes over your heads. The city could be seen in the short distance. You cross your arms and look out the window, silent. Michael spares another glance. “My ears must be full of all the bullshit you just said, so I must not have heard you clearly. What did you say to me?”

How easy it would be to tell him…how badly you wanted to say it…but you couldn’t.

“I said…you’re right. I know my place. I won’t step out of line again.”

He doesn’t respond at first. You feel his gaze on you for a while before he finally turns his attention back to the road. “That’s more like it.”

The rest of the car ride is silent once again.


	11. The Last Hope

Geoff was waiting for the two of you by your apartment door once you got off the elevator. You see the ice pack pressed against his shoulder and he gives you a look. It wasn't too intense but it definitely was heavily disapproving. You pass by him without a word and into your home. 

The rest of the crew were already inside. Jeremy and Gavin had helped themselves to some food from your fridge and hooked up a gaming console to the tv. They look up from the couch along with Jack who stood at the kitchen counter. She had a wine glass by her lips but lowered it when she saw you walk into the room.

“(F/N). Michael.” She greets. “How did the mission go?”

You stop dead in your tracks and your hands clench into fists. “Did everybody know it was a mission but me? Did I miss some meeting?”

“More like you weren’t invited.” Michael mutters, pushing past you to a whiskey bottle on the table.

Gavin and Jeremy glance over to see your reaction but your gaze drops to the ground. So they did all know. 

“I’m going to my room.” You tell them.

“(F/N), wait.” 

Geoff appears beside you, hand outstretched. You eye his hand then raise your gaze to his. He gestures for you to hand it over and you sigh, putting the paper the man had given you in Geoff’s palm.

“How did you even see that? You were still in the building when he gave it to me-” Your voice trails off with realization.

You inwardly groan. 

_Jeremy._

You see the man quickly turn his back to you, hiding his face as he studies the gaming controller in his hands. He must’ve been watching the encounter from a distance the whole time.

Geoff takes the paper and opens it, reading whatever was written on the other side. From over his arm, you could see the faint scribbles of a phone number and a word- perhaps a name- through the back of the paper.

“Alright, let’s take this to the heist room.” He jerks his thumb over to your office, “We need to discuss our next step.”

“What about Ryan?” Jack asks, “He still hasn’t come back yet.” 

It didn’t even occur to you that Ryan wasn’t in the room until now. He did leave before you right? You shake your head at yourself. He was probably hiding somewhere so he didn’t have to deal with you again for the rest of the night. 

Geoff looks at the paper again and dismisses the question with a flick of the wrist. “We can catch him up on it when he gets back. For now, let’s start coming up with a plan. Michael, get a hold of Les-” 

Geoff stops, catching himself and eyes flashing to you. He coughs, “Contact you know who. The rest of you, with me.”

Gavin and Jeremy stand from the couch. You hold Jeremy’s eyes for a second and he sends a semi-apologetic look before dipping his head and following Jack and Gavin into the office. Michael moves past you again, this time knocking you slightly sideways. You stumble away and watch as he follows the others into the room, pulling out his phone and dialing a number in the meantime.

“And what am I supposed to do now?” You call to the tux-fitted man.

“Your work is done for the night. Go to your room and wait until we call for you tomorrow.” 

With that he slams the door shut and you hear the click of the lock. You glare after it and cross your arms.

A grumble can be heard from your stomach and you frown. You still hadn’t eaten since lunch earlier today. And those burgers at the diner had looked really good... Maybe the crew had something here you could eat?

You cross to the kitchen and open the fridge. Looks like the others had gone shopping to stock up your fridge. Not that the food was for you of course. It was more like, look we got a new apartment, let’s fill it! And not- look we took over this girl’s apartment and she has a fridge and so we should respect her privacy and not mess with anything!

You brush aside some diet coke cans and grab a leftover fast food box. Inside were two decently sized slices of pizza. You close the box and read the sticky note on top. 

“Geoff’s- DO NOT TOUCH”. 

You pucker your lips as you stare at it.

Should you?

You glance back at the office door.

They probably weren’t going to be out anytime soon. So… sure, why not? 

You move around the kitchen; putting the pizza on a plate, microwaving it, and grabbing one of the diet cokes as well. Then you head upstairs, making sure to leave the evidence that their food had been rifled with in plain sight. If that was the extent of your allowed rebellion, you were willing to bet your ass that you would take advantage of it.

Once inside your room, you set the food on your bed and walk into the closet to change. You come out wearing a pair of long sweatpants and a cat face t-shirt. Moving back to the bed, you tie back your hair into a small bun and begin eating.

About halfway through your stolen meal, something in the room begins vibrating. It’s loud and catches you off guard. You were still on edge from the events of tonight and you jump, looking wildly around the room. Was it some sort of camera? A bomb?!

You track the vibrating to the closet and kneel down next to the pile of clothes you wore earlier that day. You pull out your phone from your pocket, suddenly feeling extremely stupid. Did you just really mistake your phone vibrating for a bomb?

You push the thought away and look over the screen. It’s a call from a blocked number.

You squint. It couldn’t be…could it?

You slide the screen and hold the device to your ear.

“Rust?” You whisper quickly, hope building in your chest. 

Silence. 

Then,

“What did I tell you about saying my name when you pick up?”

You smile sheepishly, eyes immediately tearing up in overwhelming relief, “I-I’m sorry. I just- you have no idea how glad I am to hear your voice right now.”

“Yeah, sorry I haven’t called in a while. Something came up. You free to talk for a bit?”

The faces of the crew members sitting literally a floor below you flash into your mind. They would know if you got a call. They might even know you were on right now. What were they going to do to you if they caught you? Should you even risk it?

Think fast, (F/N). It’s now or never.

“I um…” 

Fuck it. 

“Yeah, I’m free.”

“Cool,” Rust’s connection crackled for a moment but his voice came back as quickly as it left, “I wanted to check in on you. How have things been?”

You frown. How easy it would be to just tell him everything. Tell him how much you messed up, how much you wanted out- out of the crew- out of this mess- out of Los Santos if it meant getting your life back. But even then...there was already the extremely likely risk that your room had been bugged and the crew were listening in. 

“Rust…Rust I messed up. I can’t tell you everything. I can barely tell you anything. Just-…Fuck, I messed up real bad.”

“What do you mean? (F/N)?” He asked, voice filling with concern.

“You- you remember those people from before?” You were starting to tremble and your voice was showing it, “I- I well...they found me and took me hostage and-and I’m so fucking scared.”

“What?” He hissed, “Are you kidding me?! I told you not to get involved-!”

“I know!” You whisper-scream at him, “I know, Rusty!”

You hear him moving things around in the background, “I- Jesus, (F/N)...Are you hurt? Have they done anything to you?”

You glance around the room, standing to your feet and ducking into the bathroom. You shut the door and lower your voice. “No, no…I’m fine. A few bruises here and there from the kidnapping but...They haven’t seriously hurt me yet.”

“Where are they right now?”

You hesitate. “Downstairs. In my office.”

Silence. 

You finally break down, telling him about the kidnapping and how they threatened to kill your family. How they almost killed you if it weren’t for their need of a proxy crew member for some heist they wanted to pull. You tell him about the fake date you went on with the scariest man alive and how the only thing you wanted right now was for it to be over.

Rust listens without interruption and you can’t tell if it was out of respect or shock. When you finish, you sniffle and hear him sigh on the other end.

“Fuck my life…” He mutters quietly, then returns to his normal volume, “(F/N), what were you thinking? You weren’t, I can tell you that! Look, as crazy as it sounds, you’ll be fine as long as you’re with them. They’re not going to let you get hurt.” He assures.

“I find that highly doubtful! Rust, you have no idea the threats they’ve said to me.”

There’s a shifting noise but other than that there’s no response. You absentmindedly trace the tiles on the bathroom floor. “Rust,” you whisper, an idea forming in your head “I need you to do me a favor.”

“What is it?” His voice sounds far away.

“I need you to call the police- get Matt- someone- anyone! I need you to send them to my apartment right away-”

“Absolutely not!”

You flinch, the sudden loudness startling you. “Why not?” You demand, voice raising as well. “If the police show up, they’ll either be detained or they’ll run away! I can escape!”

“(F/N),” He says sternly. “That’s not how the crew works. That’s not how any crew here works. You know that. The second they see those blinking blue and red lights? They’ll know you made contact outside their scope. They. Will. Kill. You.”

“Oh come on, Rust! So what should I do then? Huh? Just sit back while they destroy my life? Wait for my release without any guarantee when that will be-?”

“I know you’re scared. But you need to trust me. If they're still anything like I remember, the Fakes won’t let anything happen to you. You just need to do what they say and everything will go smoothly. Don’t try to get on their bad side, don’t ask any questions, and absolutely under no circumstances should you try to leave without their permission or get in touch with the police.”

You sigh. The conversation wasn’t going in the direction you had hoped for. 

“Rust… I don’t want to die.”

“You’re not going to die,” he assures, “But I have to go. I’m going to figure out what’s going on, okay? Maybe someone underground knows something about what they’re planning.”

“So I guess we’re not going to be seeing each other for a while then, huh?”

“I’m so sorry that this happened to you. And I’m even more sorry to leave you like this.”

“I…I understand why.”

“I can’t meet with you in person. Not when there’s a chance of being seen. I’ll call you when I can to check on you. Other than that, looks like I’m going dark.”

You sniffle again, feeling a hot tear crawl down your cheek. The phone crackles as it shifts in his hands.

“Take care of yourself, (F/N).”

“You too, Rust.” You whisper. “Thanks for calling.”

There’s a pause. Then a dial tone to signify the line had gone dead. You hang your head and pull in your knees. The phone slips from your hand and tumbles against the bathroom floor. You make no move to grab it.

You had lost your freedom, your home, and now you’ve lost your best friend. What else would go wrong?

You hear a low thudding against your bedroom door. You quickly wipe your tears and choke down a sob. Were you really going to have to deal with the crew members right now? Did they know about the call? Had they been listening in?

Getting up, you walk over to the door.

“W-who’s there?” You call, voice shaky.

No response.

You slowly open the door and look out. 

What?

You peer around. Nobody was there. Did you imagine it-? 

You look down.

On the floor outside your door sat your favorite bottle of beer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm curious, you guys know who Rusty is right? Just checking if I need to add more/less hints and whatnot. I'm honestly worried I might be turning people away because they think I added a "new" character to the world. I don't really consider it to be a spoiler if you know or don't because your character doesn't and that's all that really matters but if any of you do/don't can you let me know?
> 
> Thanks!


	12. The Extraction

After about four days of serious planning and deliberation and creating contingency plans for contingency plans, the crew finalized the plan for today’s heist. Your skin felt itchy and bothered in the high grass of the Sandy Shore rolling hills. Down below, you watch the building buzz with life. Motorcycle crew members stood around chatting with one another, fixing bikes, and just enjoying the outside air. In the windows, you could see a small pair playing darts in what you guessed was a bar room.

You hold your breath as you move your stare through a pair of binoculars at the warehouse.

“Two men outside the garage. Do you see them, (F/N)?” Jeremy whispers from next to you. 

You glance over at him, watching him align his sniper rifle at the men. You peek through the goggles once more and heave a sigh. “Yes, I see them.”

“Then what are you waiting for? Call it in.”

You don’t move. Jeremy senses something wrong from the silence and looks over at you questioningly. “What?”

“I just-,” you start, pulling away from the binoculars, “I don’t see what I’m doing here. Why exactly am I needed?”

He gives you a weird look. “You’re helping me do recon remember?”

“Of course I remember. I just don’t see why _I_ specifically have to be here though. I thought the deal was that I didn’t get involved.” 

The man beside you shakes his head. “It’s easier to keep you in our line of sight. Besides, we needed an extra hand with this one.” He then presses his earpiece, “Two men in front of the building.”

A static fills your own earpiece as a new voice comes over the line. 

“Perfect,” Geoff chimes, “Mogar and I are in position and ready to infiltrate. Rollcall!”

“The Nighthawk has eyes in the back!” Gavin chirps.

“Angel with Wings is airborne and circling.” Jack calls.

“Fox and Mouse are ready at the front.” Jeremy adds.

“Here.” Ryan quips.

“And last but not least,” Geoff adds, “Team Boss Level is ready for action. Let’s go boys.”

You hear a soft rustling from beside you and look up to see Jeremy pointing his rifle directly at one of the men. His finger brushes the trigger causing your heart to skip a beat. “Wait, what are you doing? I thought we weren’t going to harm anyone?”

“I’m not doing anything you need to be concerned about,” He answers simply. He then reaches into his pocket, “Here, it’s time for your part of the plan. Make it convincing.”

He hands you a cell phone and a sheet of paper without looking up from the lens. You take the objects and begin inputting the number into the phone. With a deep breath, you muster up some tears in your eyes and click the send call button. 

It rings three times before someone picks up.

“Hello?”

You recognize the voice. You feel a part of you boiling with hate but you suppress it and instead sob quietly into the phone, focusing on making it sound genuine. “He- They- they found me…”

“What? Who is this? Who’s calling?”

“They’re coming for me…”

Jeremy tenses up into the rifle. You look toward the garage of the warehouse where a third man had appeared. He stood by the others, hand to his ear and peering around confusedly. 

That was him. The guy from the bar the other night. 

You pull the phone closer to your ear.

“You were right- he- Geoff Ramsey- he sent his men after me! His gang members they- they’re trying to get into my house!” 

“What! Where are you-?!” 

“Please help!” You cry, the words sounding so convincing that Jeremy actually snaps his attention over at you. He scans your face to check if you were being serious but you shake your head and focus back on the call. “Please, please! Come save me! I-I’m so scared!”

“Stay where you are! Or-No! Get somewhere safe! Like a bathroom! Lock the door- I-I’ll be right there!”

“O-Okay! Please hurry!” You tell him some bogus address and after a pause, you hit the ground so it makes a loud thump. “Oh! They’re inside the house!”

“Just hold on-!”

You hang up the phone. 

By the warehouse, you watch the man call into his phone several times before shoving it in his pocket and begin shouting to the others. They all run into the garage. Seconds later, about five motorcycles with their engines blaring come racing out and start tearing down the dirt road to the highway. Once the engines are outside of hearing range, you put the phone down and turn to face the back of the building. Like clockwork, you see two small forms appear from the back of the building. They creep forward to a door on the side and Geoff ushers Michael inside before closing the door behind them.

“That was uh, that was actually not bad.” Jeremy mutters, sitting up. He looks over at you but you refuse to make eye contact. On your cheek, you feel a warm liquid trail down your skin. You quickly wipe it away before he could notice.

“Yeah well I guess it helps that I didn’t have to completely act.”

He doesn’t respond to that.

You raise the binoculars to eye level again. “Was that all of them?” You ask, trying to change the subject.

Jeremy shrugs. 

Helpful. 

You sigh and lay back on the bushy grass, hearing it crunch and shift under your weight. The sky above you was bright blue with a handful of large, white clouds here and there. In the distance, birds chirped and you could hear the scurrying of rabbits and other small animals pouncing through the fields and hill. It was peaceful. To a degree of course. You knew well and clear that the crew weren’t here to experience nature, and you most definitely were not here to do so either.

You had been doing your best to keep to Rusty’s advice on the crew; you weren’t trying to fight them or resist them or get on their bad side. And by the looks of it? It was paying off. You were steadily gaining their trust and with it, you were able to start doing things by yourself without having to look over your shoulder constantly. 

Now, even with that said, that didn’t mean they stopped keeping their eye on you completely. You knew they were always still somewhere nearby, ready just in case you found the opportunity to say something to someone about your situation. 

But now your concern was on an entirely different level. Apparently gaining trust from the Fake A.H Crew came with the…”privilege”...of joining them on future missions. And so, here you were. Helping the crew raid some poor motorcycle clubs’ warehouse. 

From the basic facts you had gathered from this morning’s meeting, you knew the mission was somewhere along the lines of being an extraction. What was being taken out, you had no idea. But you guessed it had to be big or else they wouldn’t have required Jack to fly a cargobob. 

The plan was to have Gavin, Jeremy, and you stand guard outside while Michael and Geoff infiltrated the warehouse and got whatever it was they wanted out. After that, Ryan would pick everyone up and return to the city in a inconspicuous truck. Jack would then bring the extraction to some airfield and store it for safekeeping. After that, she would return to the city as well to meet up with everyone.

Easy.

At least, that was the hope.

You turn your head to look at the man beside you. Unsurprisingly, he had returned his attention through the viewfinder of the sniper rifle.

You study his choice of clothing for the heist. How on Earth did he think a purple and orange tux was the best camouflage in this yellow grass? Maybe his pants would match but the purple jacket? Yesh-

Jeremy’s staring at you again. 

“...What?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t understand you. Just earlier this week you were our prisoner, trying to fight us in every way. Now? You’re almost willingly joining us on missions. What’s up with that?”

“I think you’re confusing the word willingly with “ _I’m still terrified of you guys so I’m going to go along with what you say_ ".” 

“No…I don’t think I am. People don’t just take to their captors like this. What did you do to make Geoff trust you so quickly-”

“We found what we’re looking for!” Geoff suddenly interrupts over the intercom. You hear him knock on something metal in the background. “It’s in better shape than we expected too. Jack, start the landing process. We’ll find the keys and get this thing rolled outside.”

“Copy,” Jack answers.

You turn back to colorful crew member. “So, just what is it they’re stealing, Jeremy?” you ask, trying to change the subject again.

“I’m not allowed to say. And don’t call me that. Not in the field.”

“Oh come on, please? We aren’t even doing anything and there’s nobody around for miles-.”

“(F/N), I’m serious. I can’t tell you.”

…”Please?”

He gives you an annoyed look but you dismiss it with a pleading gaze. He finally sighs, “I can’t tell you exactly what it is. But just know that it’s a very expensive, very awesome vehicle. That’s already more than you need to know.” 

So it was just a car? That was really what the “Ultimate Heist” shit was about? One car?

“I’ll take your word for it.” You answer.

Suddenly you hear shots ring out. There’s screaming. Jeremy immediately climbs back over the rifle and scans wildly around the warehouse. Static crackles in your ears before Geoff’s frantic call cries out, “Shit! There were more inside!”

You look at Jeremy, “What do we do?!”

He doesn’t answer. He looks scared. You grab the binoculars and try to scan around the building as well but can’t spot anything. The shots were coming from the other side of the warehouse. You put the binoculars down and desperately look around with your own eyes around the premises. 

Movement from the side of your vision catches your attention. You duck, spotting the red truck beginning to pull up from down the road. It was heading towards you.

You quickly grab Jeremy’s arm and shake it, pointing at the truck just yards away, “Somebody’s coming!”

He immediately switches his view to the truck and aims. You see his finger grip the trigger.

“Wait!” You cry, knocking the rifle out of his hands just as Jeremy fires! The bullet ricochets into the hill opposite of you. 

“What the hell!” Jeremy cries, “What do you think you’re doing?!”

“You can’t just shoot them!”

“If they see Geoff and Michael, we’re going to have a much bigger problem than it already is! Just stay down and stay out of the way!”

You shrink away under Jeremy’s piercing glare. He was right, but that didn’t mean he could shoot whoever he pleased! You spot the rifle on the ground and without thinking, dart for it. Jeremy moves to get in your way but you manage to slip under him and grab the gun. 

Over the hill, the truck parks and two men climb out, joking and laughing with one another, unaware to the events happening feet away. 

A heavy weight straddles itself to your back and you desperately fight to squirm out from under it. Two purple suited arms lash into your vision, trying to get the gun from your grasp. But you refuse to let him have it. Your mind flickers back to your fight with Michael and you use the same move you had before. With a loud grunt, you shake him off. Jeremy lets out a cry, clearly not expecting your small frame to lift his entire weight from your back. He lands ungracefully on the ground beside you. You flip over and scoot backwards to get distance but you didn’t move in time. Before you had realized, Jeremy had already regained his composure and tackled you back down, pinning you on your back and knocking the air from your lungs!

“(F/N)! Stop this right now!” He grunts, trying to get you under control. “Give me the gun!”

"No! I'm not going to let you shoot innocent civilians!"

Jeremy furiously attempts to get the rifle from you but you dig your nails into the etched wooden frame for more grip. 

“Lil’ J! Wot the hell are you doing?! Now is not to time to be making out with (F/N)!” Gavin’s voice suddenly cried over the radio!

Both of you freeze in an instant, Jeremy flushing red as the other crew members start crying over the radio as well, shocked by the Brits statement.

Using the distraction to his advantage, Jeremy gives one, final tug and rips the gun from your hands and throws it to the side. He struggles to keep you down and he reaches up to his ear piece, “Geoff! Michael! Two men just pulled up outside-OOF!”

You elbow him hard in the throat, pushing him off at the same time as well. He falls back, coughing and clutching his neck. You look around eagerly and spot the gleaming metal of the rifle poke through the grass. You make a last chance attempt to grab the gun but the slick grass sends you sliding further than you intended. You grab the gun while flipping awkwardly around to face him. Jeremy begins to stand, crying out angrily for you to stop-

And then a round goes off.

And you watch as a body hits the ground.

You freeze, realizing very quickly what you had just done.

Jeremy’s been shot.

You just shot Jeremy.


	13. The Insertion

“I got him! Did anybody see that?! I got that guy right in the head!” Gavin cries proudly over the radio!

You blink hard, trying to shake away the haze as you stare down at the body sprawled on the ground. It was one of the men from the truck. 

You let out a huge sigh of relief. You hadn’t shot Jeremy after all.

Soft cussing fills the air and you turn to watch as your crew member stumbled back to his feet after hitting the deck. Neither of you had seen the man sneak up during your fight and you silently thank Gavin for his quick thinking. 

Jeremy moves over the dead man, eyeing the deep wound Gavin had made with his own sniper rifle. You tilt your head to get a better look as well, spotting where the bullet had ripped through his skull. You swallow thickly. Even with all the time you’ve been on the force you had never seen a wound like that before…

A gleam of metal next to his body catches your eye. Jeremy spots it too.

He staggers over to the man’s gun and picks it up, quickly holstering it and turning to you. His expression is unreadable. You attempt to scoot away but he quickly makes work of disarming his rifle from your hands and slings it around his shoulder. 

“I told you to stay out of my way,” he hisses.

He turns back to look over the hill. His eyes widen and he barely has time to curse and duck out of the way before a round goes off. You feel something zip through the air beside you and, even though you’re hidden by the ridge of the hill, you duck too. 

“We’ve been spotted!” Jeremy calls into the comm, “Can anyone get a visual?!”

“One man on your twelve o’clock,” Gavin answers, “It looks like he’s loading his weapon behind the truck.”

“Let me know when, Vav.”

A short pause.

“Now!”

Jeremy moves fast, standing and lining his shot within milliseconds. The next thing you know, he’s already fired six times.

“He stopped moving,” Gavin reports, “I think you got him.”

“I’m going to go make sure.” Jeremy begins to run down the hill when he pauses. He glowers back at you. “You stay here! If I find out you moved even a foot- you’d better believe there’s going to be some serious consequences! On top of everything else you’ve already done.” He adds.

With that, he half slides-half runs down the remaining part of the hill. You watch uneasily as he hurries over to the truck and pulls out the pistol. A small groan makes its way to your ears up on the hill and you can't help but stare helplessly as Jeremy reacts fast, storming around the side of the truck, out of your view, and quickly silences the groan. He unleashes the remaining bullets in the chamber practically point blank. 

Once it’s empty, he breaths hard and looks back up the hill to you. Neither of you move but you can feel how hard your heart is hammering against your chest. God, you really fucked up. You fucked up bad. All that trust you had been working so hard for was out the window now, wasn’t it? 

Jeremy then looks to your far right where Gavin was hiding in the treeline. “Both targets are elminitated.” He reports.

“Well that’s great!” Geoff shouts back, guns firing loudly in the background, “Now would you mind coming in and helping us?!”

You had completely forgotten. Geoff and Michael were still in the middle of the firefight inside! You stand to your feet ready to follow but catch yourself. You were not allowed to move.

Jeremy wastes no time in quickly disappearing inside, “Vav, watch (F/N)! I’m going in!”

Shots ring out from within the warehouse, one after another after another and so on. There’s muffled screaming and yelling. Your eyes dart around, looking for something-anything! What should you do?! You had to do something!

_Escape._

You freeze. You...were actually alone, unaccompanied in the tall yellow grass. There weren’t any crew members to stop you. It wouldn’t be hard to crawl to a nearby road and ask for help. You could actually get out of this! The crew were distracted. Now could be your chance!

You eye over Gavin’s outpost. You didn’t know how well of a shot he was. Would he be able to spot you trying to get away-?

Before you could finish your thought, the ground under your feet begins vibrating and your ears suddenly pick up the roaring engines of multiple motorcycles. You flash your eyes to the left and stare in horror as the group from earlier pull back onto the dirt roadway leading to the warehouse. They didn’t look happy. 

What should you do?!

You flash between the bikers and the warehouse multiple times before letting out a disapproving scream at yourself and take off down the hill.

“Hey! (F/N), wait! What are you doing?!” Gavin cries!

You ignore him as you stumble to the bottom of the hill and race to the truck, rounding the corner and kneeling next to the fresh corpse of the second man. 

Oh god...There was blood everywhere. 

You hold your breath as you frantically search over the body before producing a pistol from his back pocket. Then you take off inside the warehouse just as the remaining bikers pull up to the building.

“(F/N)! (F/N), where did you go?! Come back!” Gavin continues to shout, leading the other crew members to begin shouting as well,

“What?! (F/N), I told you to stay there-!”

“More bikers coming in from the front!” You shout, jumping over some storage containers in a long, narrow corridor, “I’m coming to give you support!”

“No!” Jeremy replies, “Get back outside! You’ll only get hurt-!”

His voice breaks off suddenly as Ryan comes over the radio, “Do you need me to abandon the truck and come help?” 

He sounds pissed and you could only imagine what he meant by “help”. But you shake your head and push away the fear of his hidden meaning. You reach the end of the hallway and burst through a pair of double doors and into a good sized storage room. It was empty but the air was tense. You gaze around, fingers finding and turning off the safety of the pistol. Then you stroll cautiously forward to the next door, hearing the increasing volume of bullets crashing behind it.

“I’m almost to you guys, I’m closing in-”

Your voice gets caught in your throat as the wind is suddenly knocked out of you! You tumble to the floor, clutching your stomach. 

“You fucking crew.” A male voice growls.

You snap your head up to look at him and your breath stops altogether. 

He aims his assault rifle at you, “Say goodbye you little whore.”

“Please, don’t-!” You begin to beg when you see a flash of purple and yellow.

The wooden floorboard beside you cracks into a thousand pieces as the motorcycle crew member fires wildly, grunting as he’s tackled to the ground. You scream, rolling over to your hands and knees and crawling quickly behind a crate. Once safely out of the way, you pop out on top of it with your pistol ready.

You watch as Jeremy wrestles with the man, the gun continuing to go off until it’s ripped from his hand and tumbles to the ground. You steady your weapon, attempting to aim but to no avail. The two men were going all out on each other, throwing punches and rolling around. You couldn’t find the right time to shoot. At one point, Jeremy attempts to grab the gun from the floor but the man kicks it away right before he could grasp it. He straddles your crew member and begins throwing some hard blows straight to Jeremy’s skull.

“Freeze!” You shout!

Both men continue to fight, Jeremy holding his arms close to his face in an attempt to block the hits.

“Fucking freeze! Los Santos Police!” You shout again, this time firing your pistol off into the ceiling. 

This gets their attention. 

Jeremy looks over at you, eyes widening like a deer in the headlights when he sees the pistol aimed directly at him.

And you fire.

Jeremy winces. Then opens his eyes as the weight on top of him slumps and falls off to the side.

He stares at the body. Then you. His face is a complete mix of shock and awe.

“Stop staring,” you growl, “We still need to go save Geoff’s sorry ass and get out of here while we can.”

“R-right.”

You hold out a hand and help him up. He stands to his feet and silently eyes you over. Then he pulls you behind him, taking your pistol as he leads you into the next room. “Stay behind me!”

The two of you race through the remaining part of the warehouse until you reach Geoff and Michael. They were pinned down in a firefight against four or five other members in a huge room continuing everything from tools, car shop equipment and more stacks of boxes labeled “DR”. 

You and Jeremy duck over to a spot beside them, hiding behind a large toolbox for shelter. You see Michael with his minigun out but he can’t get up from cover to use it. His face is twisted in frustration and anger. 

Heavy footsteps coming from the hall you just came from catches your attention and an idea pops in your head.

“Michael! Shoot the doors behind us!” You scream!

They look over and Geoff begins to yell at you, “You don’t get to make the calls around here-!” when the doors burst open and the men from the motorcycles run in, blocking the exit. 

You feel pressure on your back and are pushed into the floor as a literal wave of bullets mow the men down. They scream and try to escape but it was no use. They go up in a mist of red. 

When the carnage was finished, you shakily look up at their bodies before glancing back at Michael. He gives a small smirk at your reaction.

Jeremy helps you back up into a sitting position, checking you over to make sure none of the bullets had hit you. You gently swat him away, “I’m fine! Focus on the other guys!”

He nods and moves to a pair of crates, counting under his breath before popping out and firing his gun. Geoff and Michael follow his lead.

The remaining motorcycle members go down easy now.

“What’s your status, Boss Level?” Ryan calls over the radio. 

Geoff presses his ear, standing up cautiously and looking around for any more enemies. “Mogar and I are going to grab the van. We’ve got Fox and Mouse here as well. We’re sticking with the plan people! Let’s get this finished. Angel with Wings, what’s your status?”

“I’m turning the jet around now to do a fly by.” 

“Perfect, Vav, what’s your status?”

There’s no reply.

You look between Geoff and Jeremy. Geoff waits a moment before trying again. “Nighthawk, I repeat, what is your status?”

Still no reply. 

You suddenly feel sick. Where was he? Did somebody find him? Is he hurt? 

He couldn’t have gone far. 

You begin to start towards the double doors when something catches your hand.

“Where do you think you’re going?!” Jeremy cries, “I’m not letting you go off again!”

You scowl and rip your hand away. “I’m going to find your crew member! Just stick to the plan, okay? I’ll be right back!”

You were already through the doorway before he could catch you again. The three men shout for you to come back but you keep moving, racing through the rooms and halls as you retrace your steps to the front of the building. As you burst through the last door and into the garage, you stop to look around. 

There!

You spot someone lying on the ground, cowering behind a rusty car and holding their side. It’s Gavin!

His sniper rifle is on the floor beside him but you can see that he’s hurt and trembling. You don’t even stop to consider how he got injured before you move to run to him- only making it a few feet when suddenly, a pair of arms wrap themselves around your waist from behind! You scream loudly, trying to shake whoever it was off!

Gavin whirls around and shouts your name in surprise.

You struggle in the person's grip but they refuse to let go. You begin to scream again when you feel warm breath on your skin as they growl in your ear, “And here I thought I was actually helping someone from Ramsey. Who knew she was a little fucking liar?”

You recognized the voice instantly and go still.

“I’m going to kill you,” he growls, “I’m going to fucking kill you for what you did to my friends!”

“Please-!” You start, then cut off into a loud scream as you felt something hot pierce your shoulder from behind. 

You’re thrown to the ground, feeling something fall from your pocket but you don’t get the chance to see what. The man jumps on top of your hips, raising the already bloodied knife blade high over his head! 

**BANG!**

The man flies off, falling to the floor at your feet. He whips around, “Wha-?” 

**BANG!**

He slumps back, head hitting the ground and a pool of blood seeping out from a fresh bullet wound on his neck. He was dead.

You stare at the body, choking back tears of pain. Then you shakily reach back and touch your shoulder, feeling the warm liquid stick to your fingers. Shit…

A shadow falls over you and you slowly look up at him. God damn was this guy terrifying. 

Ryan squats down to your level. He stares at you for a moment behind his grey skull mask before pulling a roll of gauze from his pocket. “Here,” he leans over your shoulder and quickly begins to apply the bandage to you, “This will help clot the bleeding.”

You wince and let out a soft whimper but mainly try to keep still while Ryan helps wrap the gauze over the wound. Once he finishes you and helps stand you to your feet, he turns and begins assisting Gavin next.

You watch him examine the wound on the boy's side then pull out another roll of gauze and start applying it around Gavin’s torso. The Brit flinches but surprisingly doesn’t make a sound, almost like he had been through it before.

When the two were finished, you help him lift Gavin from the ground and move him to the truck Ryan had driven over from his post. Ryan puts him in the backseat while helping lift you into the passenger seat as well. Then he jumps into the drivers seat. 

As he starts up the truck, you peer over at him. “How did you find us? I thought we were sticking to the plan?”

He huffs. “Oh please, we would all be dead way before now if we actually listened to Geoff about “ _sticking to the plan_ ”.” His words were harsh but there was a certain playfulness to it in his voice. 

The truck roars to life and the three of you head over to the other side of the building to pick up Michael, Geoff, Jeremy, and the stolen item.

You wait quietly in the passenger seat, timidly rubbing the gash on your shoulder. It stung like a bitch and you knew you needed to go get it disinfected and properly bandaged as soon as possible. You honestly couldn’t believe you had gotten stabbed, just for trying to help one of your captors! You frown. On the bright side, this was it. This was “the ultimate heist” right? You would be free after this...

Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I just wanted to thank everyone for all the comments and kudos you guys have been leaving me. I really appreciate it and love that people actually like my work enough to leave those. It really helps my motivation for producing these chapters as well. I still have some time before going back to school so hopefully I can roll out a few more chapters before my life gets busy. :)
> 
> Thank you again!


	14. The Needed Talk

It’s been a while since you’ve been here.

You study the ceiling of the penthouse with partly lidded eyes and sigh. The rest of the crew had already gone inside the office to “talk about what happened today”, leaving you on the couch in the living room to wonder what they were really discussing. 

The trip back from the warehouse was less eventful than you had anticipated, which was probably for the best considering all that went down. You were admittably a little fuzzy on how the drive home happened. Time had passed in seconds and before you knew it, you were already on the couch watching a cartoon. The drive, the ride up in the elevator, and even walking into the penthouse were all a blur. It might be from the shock settling in or the splitting pain from the wound on your shoulder, but nonetheless, you were fighting the overwhelming urge to throw up. 

Picking up the boys from the warehouse was the easy part. Trying to answer all their questions at once? That one was a little more difficult...The questions ranged from: How did you find Gavin? Where was he? Why did Ryan leave his post? Why was Gavin wounded? How are any of you still in the crew if all you do is disobey orders?

That last one was Geoff. 

So far nobody but Ryan knew or seemed to have noticed your injury. The boys were much more concerned about Gavin and his bandaged torso to bother looking your direction. Not that you minded. You supposed you were lucky, in some weird messed-up way. Ryan hadn’t said a peep about what transpired in the garage and you felt thankful. You honestly didn’t know how much more attention you could take. Today was intense to say the least and it wasn’t even close to being over. A glance at the clock on the bookshelf told you it was only early afternoon, barely even a proper lunch time. 

You sigh again and bite the inner lining of your cheek.

What worried you most was what the crew were going to do about you fighting Jeremy on the hill. Everything else could be explained rather easily in some fashion like, you ran into the building to support them or, you ran away because you wanted to find Gavin. But why you fought Jeremy? That one was a little harder to explain. Would they even understand why you did it? Because you didn’t want him to kill someone? This was a crew who could kill for sport...No way would they understand. 

Then your stomach sinks lower as a thought crosses your mind. 

Would they want revenge? You put one of their members in direct danger, nearly getting not just him but the both of you shot! And would they blame you for Gavin’s injury? Nobody was really clear on what happened with him- including the kid himself. All he remembered was moving into the garage to provide backup when he get shot from behind. And then you appeared from that direction seconds later…

Your hands tremble by your sides and the queasiness that you feel inside only grows. What if...what if they decided they couldn’t handle you? That what you did today was too over the line and they wanted to punish you? What if...What if they really did go after your family like they threatened to before?

No.

No you can’t think like that. They wouldn’t do that! Not after you worked so hard to get on their good side!

But that creeping wave of doubt rolls in.

The trust between you and the crew could be broken like glass and within seconds. And you might just have done that.

You glance over at the office door. It was still shut tight. What were they talking about in there? Why were they taking so long to say whatever it was? Why did they leave you out here alone…

It was clear that your nerves were going to kill you before the crew possibly could. You stand to your feet and shuffle around, moving slowly and quietly around the apartment, simply trying to find something else to do other than watch tv and wait on an impending panic attack.

A gleam of tinted yellow catches your eye from a small table. You feel your body unconsciously shiver at the sight and a warning bell sirens off in your mind. But you ignore those familiar red-flags and instead creep forward till the bottle of hard Jack Whiskey stands before you within arms reach.

_Don’t do it (F/N)_ , a voice inside cautioned, _you don’t want to go through this again._

But you choose to ignore it. The drink would certainly help with the pain and shock of today. Your shoulder was killing you after all. One sip couldn’t hurt. Besides, you hadn’t had any since... 

Since…

You shake your head frantically, forcing yourself to take a step back. No. No you wouldn’t. Your fight to recovery was still ongoing and you’d be damned if you lost all the progress you made right now.

But that thought makes you let out a small, lonesome chuckle.

After today?

You were damned already.

Before you can stop yourself, the shot glass is already filled and held up to your lips. The whiskey flows into your mouth like silky caramel, leaving that familiar burning sensation scratch at the back of your throat. You swallow it down eagerly. Then you breathe hard and steady yourself on the table, already beginning to feel the pain on your back lessen. 

The bottle calls your name once more and you stare at it.

Then you pour another shot.

And another for good luck. 

Within seconds, the pain is gone entirely. The shock...The pain...It’s all gone. It rolls off your body and leaves you feeling lighter and lighter with each breath. You press your back against the wall and slide down to the floor, laughing sadly. This is really how it ends huh? This is really what made you give up?

The laughing quickly turns to tears and suddenly you’re sobbing on the floor, hugging your knees to your chest and bawling as softly as you can muster. Your mind is racing. You see yourself only mere years ago, laughing and enjoying your old department, you hanging out with old friends and having barbeques with your father and his family. And you see your brother...you see him at his graduation from the academy...laughing and smiling and so… _alive_. 

You suddenly race to cover your mouth as your body warns you of an oncoming sickness. You scramble to your feet, stumbling wildly around the apartment until you finally find and make it into a bathroom. Once over the toilet, you heave and all that whiskey from before is pumped out of your stomach. You choke and gag, coughing and sputtering between heaves until finally it stops. 

Your throat now burns for an entirely different reason. 

“What a waste of a good drink,” you mutter to yourself as you wipe away your lips.

A knock on the bathroom door echos through the room and you jump. In the rush to find a bathroom, you hadn’t really stopped to see where you were. You know you had to run through a bedroom to get here...But as to who’s it was, you had no idea. 

You look around the room. The bathroom itself had seen better days. There are towels on the ground and trash overfilling the garbage bin. A row of small gel bottles lined the sink counter. Small smudges and stains littered the floor tiles but nothing really stood out to say who’s bathroom this was. You quickly flush the toilet and move to the sink to wash your hands. But the sight of a unrecognizable figure makes you freeze. 

You see yourself standing in front of you with matted hair, red eyes, and a paler complexion rising against your usual skin tone. You looked like shit. Then again you felt like shit...

The knocking continues and you shakily move away from the mirror and over to the door, trying to avoid stepping on anything that littered the floor. Best not to hold off the inevitable, right? It doesn’t even come as a surprise that you when you open the door, you’re met with a bright neon cowboy. 

“Oh,” Jeremy murmurs, seeing your appearance as if for the first time. “I was looking for you. I thought we told you to stay in the living room? What are you doing in here?”

Not really wanting to tell him the truth, you offer a light shrug, “Needed a moment to myself.”

His left eyebrow rose a fraction and he measures you. You wait half in anticipation and half in dread of how he will respond. You can feel the knot inside coming back and beg the crew member to just say it. Say that you were out. Out of the crew. Out of the city. Out of life.

Instead, he surprises you by saying, “We need to talk. Care for a walk?”

***

Jeremy leads you out of the building and down the road towards the center of the city. The trip down in the elevator had been silent and even as the two of you left the apartment complex, no one else was to be seen. The office door may have been shut but that didn’t stop your nerves from staying. If anything the sight made them worse. Why did the crew send him to come get you? Was it to take you out?

Just what did you need to talk about that required leaving the apartment? 

You glance over at your captor, studying him as you walk.

His expression was calm. He walked with his shoulders back and head high with confidence. He didn’t look like he was going to kill you, so that’s probably a good thing. He feels your staring and looks over at you, unphased.

“So, what were you doing in Geoff’s room?”

Ah. So that’s who’s room it was. You tuck a small strand of hair behind your ear, “I didn’t know that was his room. I just needed to use the restroom and that was the first one I found.”

“I see.” 

You draw your brows together. Why did he have to sound so condescending about that? Did he not believe you?

He continues walking around the streets with you trudging close behind for almost ten minutes before he comes to a sudden stop on top of a small bridge over a roadway. He leans on the railing with his elbows and watches the cars pass underneath his feet. You cautiously move to stand next to him. 

Just why were you here...

The silence stretches on for a while, neither of you saying a word. You eye the traffic warily and watch people walk on the sidewalk with dulled interest. They were laughing and talking on their phones and enjoying themselves. 

For the second time today since getting back, you were feeling sick again. But this time, it was from envy.

Jeremy suddenly straightens, speaking softly so only you could hear him, “I want to talk about today- what your plan was, in particular.” 

You squint at him in confusion, keeping your voice quiet as well. “My plan?”

He turns to face you, now letting you see the uncertainty in his eyes. His confidence from before had drained from his expression leaving an uneasy, vulnerable man in its place. 

“You fought me on the hill. You took my gun away and pointed it at me. You were ready to fire that gun and kill me, (F/N).”

You find yourself looking away, fighting to control the swirling negative emotions inside you. You stay silent. 

Jeremy leans forward, “Why did you do it?”

When you still refuse to say anything, Jeremy growls and slams his hands down on the railing, “Why!”

You flash your eyes back to him. His attitude right now wasn’t a good sign for you. You wait for his seething to die down before speaking. 

“Look- Jeremy, I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I was trying to protect them.”

“You’re sorry?” He parrots, eyes narrowing as he grimaces, “You nearly killed the both of us. You put everyone in this crew in danger and- and for what? Two men in a truck? I wasn’t even going to kill them-!”

“You had a rifle pointed at their heads!”

“The bullets weren’t even real!” He snapped. 

You stiffen. Your eyes rush over his face to find any hint that he was lying. When you don’t find anything, you take a small step away from him in shock. 

“But...You said...I thought you were going to kill them?” 

Jeremy holds your gaze for a few more seconds before tearing away, moving to look out on the street. He almost looks ashamed. 

“They were rubber,” he explains softly, “We didn’t want to risk you getting your hands on it. But uh...I guess we already saw how that turned out.”

No...No it wasn’t true… _it couldn’t be_...

But it was.

Your chest heaves and your eyes water. You were angry at yourself for being so embarrassed, so humiliated. But his explanation made sense. Of course they wouldn’t use real bullets. Not with you around. And that explained why Gavin was covering the both of you instead of watching the back door like he was “assigned” to. You move to look down at your hands on the railing, not surprised to find your knuckles almost white from gripping the metal so hard.

“The most the bullets would’ve done is incapacitate them until we got out.” Jeremy shifts his feet, “Killing them was never apart of the plan.”

A stab of guilt lay buried deep inside your chest. Those men weren’t supposed to die...but they did. Because of you. It was almost ironic, really. All that time where you fought Jeremy, you were trying to save them from dying. And yet you were the main reason why they were murdered. 

The aching in your body and the stinging sensation in your shoulder were starting to return. You stare down at the cars passing below, silent once more.

Jeremy straightens, sighing loudly. “But even with that said, I guess I do kinda owe you one.”

“Huh?”

“You saved me, remember?”

You were about to ask what the hell he was talking about when the event flashes from your memory. When that guy grabbed you and was about to kill you- before you found Geoff and Michael. Jeremy had saved you just in time. 

Jeremy was staring at you now but you wouldn’t face him. He moves in a step, closing the distance between you two. You could almost feel his shoulder against yours. For a long moment, it felt like it was just you and him there, as if you two were the only ones in the world right now. The music of the streets falls back into a roar, a static of white noise.

Finally you look up at him. His chocolate eyes capture yours and you suck in a breath. They were gentle yet assessing. Intelligent and magnetic. The tension between you two began to melt with this one look.

“Why didn’t you do it?” He murmurs, “You had the opportunity. He was right on top of me and you had the gun. Yet you didn’t shoot me. Why?”

“I…I don’t know.” 

His silence makes you feel compelled to keep talking, “He was about to shoot me when you jumped him. So I guess you technically saved my life first, you know?” 

“(F/N).” 

You bite the inner bit of your cheek again, ignoring the faint taste of vomit from earlier. 

He continues, “Usually when a group of people take a person against their will, they won’t fight for those people. Shooting me would have made your life a whole lot easier. That’s the part I don’t get.”

“What?” 

“When you took my rifle, you said that you, and I quote, *don’t shoot an innocent person*. But then...You shot him instead. Even after all we did to you and threatened to do to you. You still protected all of us. Me, Geoff and Michael, hell even Gavin. You went looking for him. Even at the expense of risking your own life.”

You don’t know how to respond. How could you? He was right. But truth was, you had cost not one, not two, but three men their lives today, four if you count the guy Ryan shot. That would make it three of which you were the cause for and one that you directly pulled the trigger on yourself. Your stomach drops again and you frantically begin to look around in case you needed a trash bin anytime soon.

“I’m not an innocent man, (F/N).” Jeremy insists, stepping even closer. To the point where your bodies were almost touching. “None of us are.” 

“I know!” You cry, whirling back around to face him, tears already present in your eyes. “I know…I-I just- I don’t know why I didn’t okay! Or- or why I did for that matter! I just- I wanted to leave so bad...”

The sight of you about to bawl nor your words seem to throw him off. In fact, he almost looks more relaxed now that you were about to start crying in front of him. 

“So... why save us?” He insists.

You wipe your eyes with shaky hands and let out a trembling sigh, trying your best not to show how much today was getting to you in front of your crew member. You couldn’t let him see you like this so you try to face away, hiding your face from his view. 

“I guess you guys are just special, then.” You try to joke, hiccuping and adding, “In a lot more ways than one.” 

You hear Jeremy shift and you peak over, seeing him rub the side of his face, a small smile appearing on his lips as he chuckles at you. “You’re not wrong.” 

Something wraps around your back and see his hand appear on your shoulder. He squeezes it gently. “Maybe you’re not as good as you make it seem.” 

Huh-?

“(F/N)?” Someone calls. 

The two of you flash over, pulling apart quickly to look at the owner of the voice. You recognized that red dip-dyed brown hair. 

“Lindsay?”

“Hey! Oh my gosh, (F/N)! I haven’t seen you in the office in a while! I thought maybe Burnie fired you or something.” Lindsay makes her way onto the bridge and you catch Jeremy grow rigid from the corner of your eye. 

You weren’t too relaxed yourself. This scene almost didn’t feel real. There was someone in front of you- somebody you knew, talking to you. The crew couldn’t intervene. As weird as it was, you didn’t think you could ever be so excited to see someone before.

Without a second thought, you fling yourself forward at Lindsay! Your arms wrap around her tight and you sink your head into her shoulder. At first you feel her stiffen in confusion but before you can pull away to apologize, she breaks her surprise and begins to hug back. 

“Oh, I didn’t know you were a hugger too. This is cool.”

You sob out a small laugh, feeling the tears rush back to your eyes but for an entirely different reason. You pull back. 

“It’s so good to see you, Lindsay.”

She laughs at that, studying you over. “How are you? I was worried that I scared you off or something. I tend to have that effect on the new kids.”

You open your mouth to tell her all about your horrible week but stop. _You couldn’t say anything_. Nothing about the crew, nothing about what you’ve been doing, and certainly nothing about your situation. All the relief you just felt was for nothing. You may be able to talk to her but you couldn’t really _talk_ to her. Your mouth twists into a forced lopsided smile as reality came spirling back at you.

You peek over at Jeremy for answers on what to do. But he doesn’t move. His eyes study you intently. He simply stands there watching you, eyes full of interest on what you were going to say.

“I’ve uh, I’ve been having a real interesting week,” you pick the words carefully, “the case has gotten a little out of control.”

“I get that,” Lindsay dismisses your words with her hand, “It wasn’t fair of them to make you do all the work by yourself, especially when they don’t even let you use one of the office desks too! That’s just them being bullies, I would know.” 

You frown, “I didn’t know you knew that.”

“Word gets around,” she admits. “Oh while I have you here, Burnie says he’s been trying to get in touch with you. He says you haven’t been picking up your phone and he’s getting tired of waiting for some report.”

“R-right! Yeah, um...My phone got disconnected. Had to uh...Change my number. And the case has just made me so busy I haven’t had the chance to fix it.”

That made sense right? You don’t get to ponder it for long because Lindsay had already shifted her attention elsewhere. She stares at Jeremy, a hint of recognition in her eyes.

“Hey, you look familiar? Have we met?”

Jeremy flashes a startled look to you, a signal. You quickly step between them and gesture to him. 

“Oh um, Jeremy, this is Lindsay, my co-worker. Lindsay, this is-”

You freeze. What exactly would you classify your relationship as? Your eyes quickly widen as you remember something from his file.

“This is uh- my fitness trainer! Jeremy.”

Lindsay lets out a small laugh, easily amused by this and you see Jeremy pale slightly. 

“Oh really?” She teases, tilting her head as if to study him over.

“Uh, yeah,” you assure, “he teaches gymnastics over at the Muscles Sands beach gym.”

Jeremy offers a forced smile, rolling with your lie. “Nice to meet you. I hope you don’t mind though but me and my… _trainee_ here need to start heading back to the gym. She’s about a hundred pushups short of our agreed goal.”

Lindsay tips her head in a nod. “Not a problem. I need to start heading home anyway. Maybe I’ll see you two around there sometime. Night (F/N)! Nice to meet you, Jeremy.”

You both wave her off before standing in mutual uncomfortable silence. Once she was out of eyesight, you let out a sigh of relief. Jeremy leans back against the railing and stares up at the sky, letting out a similar sigh as well. 

That wasn’t great. But it wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been either. You felt bad for lying to your co-worker- your only other friend in this city besides Rusty. You weren’t sure why she had looked that way at Jeremy though. Like she knew who he was.

Your heart skips a beat. What if she recognized him from wanted posters? Oh no…

“Fitness trainer, huh? How far back did you have to go to find that?” 

You try to offer an apologetic smile but he dismisses it with a smile of his own. He shifts back to his feet and moves over to your side,

“Alright kiddo, It’s time to head on back. Geoff still wants to talk to you-” 

Scorching pain ripples through your body and you shriek, pulling away from Jeremy as his hand falls down on your bad shoulder. You cower away, gripping the area around the wound. Your action sends him taking a few startled steps away from you!

“What? What!”

“It’s my shoulder!” You clench your teeth, groaning through the pain. It felt like the pins and needles feeling you would sometimes get in your feet after sitting for too long. But this was pins and needles 2.0. Or 3.0 if you really thought about how much this hurt.

You feel hands on you again and snap your head up to see Jeremy pulling your shirt down to expose your shoulder. His eyes narrow in confusion at first then widen in shock.

“W-What- how did this happen?!”

You try to pull away but he holds firm, grabbing your free hand and keeping you in place. “(F/N), where did you get this?”

“I was stabbed, okay! In the garage when I went to find Gavin- this guy ambushed me from behind.”

You hear him curse softly and feel his fingers lightly trace the side of the wound. Pain receptors burn and sting from his touch and you cry out and squirm in his grip. He finally lets go and you stumble away, shaking.

“I told you not to go off alone…” you hear him whisper.

Finally, once the pain is bearable, you give him a tense nod to say that you were ready to go back. He doesn’t respond aloud but does take you by his side and help you down the steps of the bridge. The two of you slowly make your way back to the apartment, the afternoon heat bearing down on your back and him trying to help you maneuver around the city when you needed it. 

“Once we get back, we’re going to get you fixed up. Don’t worry, okay?” 

 

_“We’re going to take care of you, (F/N). I promise.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is more on the filler side of this story. I dunno, it's kinda cute. There's some small Jeremy X Reader I guess. But oh? What's this with Lindsay meeting Jeremy? Is it possible she really did recognize him from wanted papers? Probably. But who knows. Maybe she knows something about him that she's not saying...But yeah, there should definitely be some Ryan X Reader in the next chapter though. So that'll be fun too.
> 
> Also! WHoo! We made it to 50 kudos! This is such an honor and I really appreciate everyone who has left me a comment, a kudo, or even just a hit. This is amazing and it really fuels me as a writer to see that people like my story. You guys are seriously awesome.


	15. The First-Aid Kit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, just a little note here that I did some slight adjustments to the previous chapter. Just small revisions here and there between Jeremy and Reader. Nothing plot point related really changed but I think it flows a little better now. You can go back and read it if you want but that's up to you. :)

You stare at the kingpin in bewilderment, “You want me to what?”

“Officially join the crew,” Geoff repeats, gesturing to the other members in the heist room. 

You follow his hand, eyeing each of them as if for the first time today. Jack has a smile on her face, Ryan has his arms crossed with a neutral expression while Michael sat with a slight frown and an admittedly bored look. Off to the side by an armor locker sat Gavin, shirtless with a fresh bandage around his torso. He beams at you when your eyes fall on him. Jeremy is also in the room standing somewhere behind you, and, even though he was out of your range of sight, you have the undeniable feeling that he’s grinning too. 

“I don’t understand,” you mutter, turning back to Geoff, “I thought I was in trouble?”

Geoff studies you over and the room falls into a long silence. You glance nervously back to the crew but they don’t provide any solace for your anxiety. Finally Geoff speaks,

“(F/N) (L/N), we’ve been discussing your recent actions today. How you strictly disobeyed orders, fought with Jeremy, and caused the motorcycle crew to be alerted of our presence. How you ignored your order to stay put and instead ran into the building, putting not just our lives at risk to keep you safe but also your own. It was stupid, careless, and uncalled for.” 

You gape at him, growing more and more uneasy as the list of your mistakes seem to stare back at you. You try to calm down, remind yourself that if they were going to punish you, they would’ve done it by now. But it doesn’t help. Your mind races. Were they going to kill you or not? You cross your arms to your chest protectively and shift restlessly in your seat. 

Was it just you or was the room getting tighter?

Geoff pauses, watching your body language intently before continuing, 

“ _However_ , we also have been discussing how your actions ultimately saved two of our men.” 

You peek a look at Gavin. He offers you another grin and a thumbs up, though he winces afterword and moves his hands back down to massage his wound through the bandage. You tilt your head. Wait, who was the other-?

A light cough sounds behind you and you turn back to see Jeremy by the office door. He gives you an encouraging nod. But even with his gesture, you find yourself moving your gaze back to the floor. You knew you didn’t really save him. If anything, you were the reason he was put in danger to begin with... 

“So, even while you have much to improve on,” Geoff continues, capturing your gaze with his again, “I would like to offer you a position on the Fake’s crew as a secondary priority member.” 

You can’t stop yourself from shaking your head in disbelief. They weren’t going to hurt you for today? Punish you for disobeying? No, this wasn’t right. What crew offered their prisoner a spot on their team?

“But,” you stammer out, “what does that _mean_?” 

This time Jack speaks, stepping forward into the circle. 

“It means you will be working strictly for this crew: running backgrounds, getting information- planning the behind-the-scene stuff to put it simply. Technically it’s what we were going to have you do to begin with, but we didn’t think we could completely trust you until now.”

“And you won’t be treated as a full member until we know your attitudes toward us have improved tremendously." Geoff adds, “Until then, what do you say?” 

You were baffled, startled as a wide range of emotions rage through you. Anger, sickness, but most of all, confusion. You look around the room to each of their faces. You were being offered a job…on the crew. _Permanently?_

“But I thought this was over? I thought we were done now?” 

Their smiles disappear. 

“I helped you with your heist!” You snap, frantically looking to their faces for an explanation, “That was our deal-!” 

“Our deal is hardly complete,” Geoff interjects, “We still have a long way to go. Today was only our first set up.” 

“...What?” 

You hear the shifting of weight as Jeremy begins to speak, “(F/N)...Look, it’s not-”

“No!” You cry, jumping to your feet and sending the chair beneath you tumbling to the floor from the force! “What about my police work? You said I would be allowed to leave once I finished your job! What happened to that? Was that not today?” 

You could tell how thick the atmosphere had changed from your words. They hadn’t expected this kind of response. Geoff frowns at you, suddenly looking a lot less confident. 

“Unfortunately for you, you’re still going to be with us for a while whether you like it or not. The Ultimate Heist isn’t for another few months and we still have a lot more setups we need to do. Remember, you’re still our property for the time being. We just thought maybe it would be better to extend an olive branch of sorts. You may not like it but trusting us can’t hurt as much as you think it does.” 

You didn’t want to believe that. They were criminals! You wanted to do as they said and leave. You still wanted to be police chief- it was what you worked your entire life for! And they were taking it away from you.

As if to read your mind, Jack steps back in. Her voice is harder now.

“You can still work for the LSPD, (F/N). But it will be undercover and it will be for our side. We know your goal and how much the city means to you, so how about this: we provide you information about us to submit to your boss. That way you can still appear on their side. Then, in return you can rise through ranks and when we are finished with each other, we can leave having accomplished each of our goals, never having to talk to one another again. Does that sound fair?”

It didn’t.

You clamp your hands into fists but remain silent. She stands and squeezes your shoulder. “I know you’re a good person. But taking this offer is probably for the best. You can either take it, or leave it and stay under our surveillance until we don’t need you anymore.” 

You look helplessly through the room, voice breaking as you speak. “I want the out I was promised.”

Nobody speaks aloud but their body language tells you what their mouths don’t. They weren’t pleased with your answer. Even Jack was looking more or less ticked off. Ryan was the only one meeting your eyes and he was wearing a mask. You couldn’t tell what he was really thinking.

You shake your head. The room was spinning, the tension in the air wrapped around your throat and smothers you in a thick blanket of fear. 

“(F/N),” Geoff starts but you hold up a shaky hand,

“No- I just- I need to go.” 

You start towards the door, preparing to bail out of the room but something hard stops you. You look up to see what you ran into, finding Jeremy standing between you and your escape. He passes you a pleading look and you swap your attention back to the ground, unable to meet his eyes. “Please move. I- I’m going to go home. I need to think.”

“(F/N)-” he tries.

“I’m serious. Get out of my way.”

“(F/N)-” he tires again. You open your mouth to yell for him to move but this time it’s Geoff who interrupts.

“Let her go, Jeremy,” he growls, “If she wants to act like a child, she can throw a tantrum in her room like one.” 

You peer back at him, jaw hanging open and not expecting his voice to be so cold. It sends shivers down your spine. Geoff holds your nervous glare with his own burning eyes before turning to the side. He gestures half-heartedly to Michael, “Take her home.”

The curly-haired man is startled by the command, snapping his attention between you and his boss, “What? Are you kidding me?” 

“You can go home when you’re done. Just get her out of here. This meeting is over anyway.”

You hear Michael stand from his seat but your attention instead stands firm on the man still blocking your path. Jeremy gives you another pleading look as if to ask you to stay- to change your mind. You draw your lips into a tight, displeased frown at this and that was all it took for him to see that you weren’t going to change your mind. His eyelids lower, etched deep with disappointment though you couldn’t tell why. It’s not like you actually mattered to them. You were just their prisoner, weren’t you.

Finally he sighs and steps out of your way.

“I’ll see you later, (F/N),” he says quietly, eyes downcast to the ground. 

You watch him for a moment before feeling pressure on your upper arm. Looking over, you see Michael’s hand on your skin. He gestures with his head to the door. It was time to go. With an angry huff, you shake him off and lead yourself from the office, storming away to the front door. You can feel the eyes of the crew members burning on your back but you don’t care. 

_The cowards._

They backed out of the deal. They broke their promise to you!

You make your way to the elevator at the end of the hallway, Michael catching up quickly but wisely not saying a word. You catch him checking his phone and glancing at you a few times while you wait. By the third time he does this, you turn and face him.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be out of your hair soon enough,” you assure him with a forced smile.

He doesn’t seem convinced. Michael glances down at his phone and this time you hear a light vibration of the device in his palm. You lean over and try to see who was messaging him but he quickly hides the screen. You both glare at each other.

“What? The crew talking about me already?”

“Why would it matter?” he shoots back, “I thought you said you would be out of my hair soon enough.”

You click your tongue against your cheek. Fine. Whatever, it’s not like you cared anyway. 

The elevator arrives and soon enough you both are already in the garage, buckled up and pulling out onto the street in one of his chromed out cars. Michael blasts past building after building, weaving in and out of traffic without a word- or even the radio on for that sake. The afternoon sun was already setting, too much time passed in that office and you hadn’t even realized it. Within minutes, you make it to your apartment down the road and luckily in one piece. When he pulls up to the garage, you assume he’s going to drop you off and reach for the door handle but his cough makes you stop. You look over at him and he shakes his head. 

“Orders. I’m bringing you inside.” he says simply, reaching up to the visor and pressing a small button. Your eyes widen a fraction in surprise as the garage door swings up. Since when did they get a key for the apartment? Did they take one of yours? No...Matt only gave you one and you were positive you had stashed it in- wait!

You scramble in the seat, desperately checking your back pockets. Michael slams the breaks and flashes his eyes over at you.

“What are you doing?”

“My phone!” you exclaim! “My phone- where is it?!”

“Hell if I know. Maybe you left it at the penthouse?”

You sink down in the seat, frantically searching your memory for where you might have put it. You knew you had brought it to the mission today but nothing serious stands out. Maybe you did leave it at the penthouse? You inwardly groan. The last thing you wanted right now was to have to go back to grab it and deal with the crew. Mainly Geoff in particular. You gave a shaky wave, a gesture to Michael to keep going. His frown deepens but he does continue and pulls the car into the garage. 

Once parked, you hop out and meet back at the elevator. Next thing you know, you’re in front of your apartment door. You fiddle with your keys, trying to find right one. Your hands are shaking but you can’t tell if it’s from the adrenaline in your anger or something else.

Apparently you were taking too long because Michael sighs and walks up beside you, rips the keys from your hand, and places the correct one into the bolt lock in one easy swoop. It gives a satisfying click and the door opens a few centimeters. 

You narrow your eyes and begin to open your mouth in protest but when you turn around, he’s already walking back down the hallway, phone to his ear and muttering quietly about how he’ll be home for dinner soon. There was a small snag at work. Any other time this would make you pause and wonder who he was talking to, but right now all you wanted was to be alone and deal with yourself and your own problems. 

You step inside the apartment, flicking on the light and moving inside. The floor is dirty with mud, dirt, trash, and the whatnot but you force yourself to ignore it as you cross the kitchen into the living room. The tv is off and you don’t bother checking the house for anything out of place. Since the crew had taken your life as well as your apartment over, nothing stayed in its place for too long.

You hurry up the steps to the second floor bedroom and move into the bathroom. You wanted out of these dirty clothes. Reaching into the shower, you pull the handle until the shower head began spraying water. You run your hand through the stream until it heats up to a satisfying temperature. Then you strip out of your clothes and the gauze Ryan had put over your wound and step into the water.

Yep, you needed this. Just a moment to yourself after this crazy day. The water runs through your hair and down your skin, trailing over your shoulders and down your back. The heat causes you to flinch at first but you quickly sink into the bliss of the moment. You sense a small aggravated sensation near where the wound on your shoulder is and gently reach back to touch it. The cut itself scabbed over already and numbed for the most part from the rest of your body. It felt more like a pained bruise than anything. After a few examining touches, you could tell that while it wasn’t as deep as it could’ve been, it certainly still needed a doctor’s eye. You weren’t sure where that knife had been and if it had been used before.

You feel lightheaded thinking about it.

You were stabbed today. As well as almost killed multiple times. Your mind sends you back to the room when Jeremy saved your life, taking the hits that were designed for you. Then you think to when that man in the garage, the one you tricked into coming to help you, was shot by Ryan. Who saved you...A-and then when the room you met with Geoff and Michael in, if you hadn’t heard those footsteps? You shiver even in the warmth of the shower.

All of you could’ve been killed today. 

A sigh escapes your lips and you sink down to the tile floor of the shower. The water continues washing down over your body but you can’t feel it anymore. You’re cold and upset. The crew had the audacity to break their promise. They said you were helping them get to “the ultimate heist” and it terrifies you that this mission today was only a setup. You saw first-hand how many people lost their lives today. Just how many more were going to lose their lives for this grand heist?

You made a horrible mistake. 

You should’ve just let them kill you in that house. Or taken up their offer and left the city! Now look at you! A pathetic mess on the floor of a bathroom shower, life completely ruined and all promises you made to yourself, broken. 

You pull your knees into your chest and sob, putting your forehead down as well. 

You just wanted this to be over. All of it.

The shower began to sound like a waterfall in your ears. It was simply a roar, one so loud you don’t even hear the bedroom door open and close.

You stay on the floor for a few more minutes, crying softly and letting the water flow over you. Then, once you were ready, you stand up and turn off the shower, stepping out into the bathroom.

“Hey…”

You snap up through teary eyes and spot a semi-familiar face hovering from the bathroom doorway. You immediately cover yourself, turning red. 

“Wha- Hey! Get out!” you scream!

The figure quickly darts back out of view but not before you catch their eyes widening in surprise and their face tinting pink in equal embarrassment. You frown.

What the hell did he want?

You quickly wrap yourself in a towel and make your way over to the door. You glance back at your dirty clothes and narrow your eyes. Great. The only way to clean clothes was through the bedroom and into the closet. And now thanks to your new guest, it was through the bedroom, past the freak, and into the closet. You tighten the towel around you and open the door to look out.

Ryan sat silently on the bed. No skull mask, no face paint. Just Ryan in his natural look. You squint at him, knowing he heard the bathroom door open but he refuses to look in your direction. You sigh.

“Here to be a pervert again or just to reprimand me for talking back to Geoff?”

He chuckles softly but doesn’t say anything. Instead, he holds up a small green package in his hand. You recognize it quickly. Oh…

“Is that for me?”

He nods, his long black hair bobbing in its tight ponytail. You hum with interest. Then you glance toward the closet.

“Fine, just give me a second then.” You quickly add, “And no peeking! I’m serious!”

You don’t bother waiting for a response or a nod or anything before darting through the room and into the closet. Once inside, you wait, holding your breath to see if he moved from the bed. There wasn’t a sound from where he sat. 

You peer through your clothing, pulling on a pair of shorts and a sports bra. You ditch the towel on the floor beside you, then tie back your untamed hair into a small bun. Once satisfied with your appearance, you return beside your crew member. 

You stare at him, blinking to try and see him better in the dim light of the bedroom. He still wore the clothes from today’s heist. His pants had bits of dust and dirt from the wind gusts up in Blaine County and upon closer inspection, you could spot tiny splatters of red on his black and blue jacket. 

You swallow uneasily, “Okay, you can look now.”

Ryan glances up at you. You see his eyes scan over your form and even without the mask, you struggle to read his expression. He finally looks away and leans back on the bed to make room for you to sit down beside him. 

You do so and turn so your back faced him. No words are spoken as you feel his breath soft on your skin and his fingers slide over to your bra strap, pulling it down a bit to expose the stab wound better. Your heart is beating faster with each motion he does as he studies the severity, or maybe the lack thereof, of the cut. Then you feel him pause. You know what he sees and you stare at the ground with both embarrassment and regret. 

“Just...focus on the wound okay?”

Ryan doesn’t respond. However, you do feel the bed shift as he turns to the package laying next to him on the bed. The green first aid kit makes a small popping sound as he clicks it open. You take the pause to glimpse over at what he was doing. 

Inside the small kit were a variety of tools, bandages, and other small items used for treating injuries. Overall it had a very military-est feel to it and for good reason. You knew the package well, having used it many times in your line of duty at the police depart here in Los Santos. It had everything to help treat anything from markings made from physical assault to bullet wounds and to, of course, yes even stab wounds. You had never really needed it for yourself and you had even considered yourself extremely lucky for that. 

But now it seemed that your luck had ran out.

You suddenly feel pressure on the wound and flinch away instinctively. Ryan passes you an unamused look. 

“I barely touched you.”

You open your mouth to make a smart retort but he quickly silences you with a disinfecting wipe on the wound. Your jaw clenches tight and a quiet hiss escapes your lips. The initial pain wasn’t the worst you’ve felt, the stabbing easily remaining number one. But whoo! Boy did it sting!

Ryan doesn’t waste time in making work of cleaning the cut. Before long, he had already finished disinfecting and moved on the checking the wound over, now able to see how deep it really was. He gently opens the wound a fraction with his gloved fingers, sending you into a range of whimpers as your nerves light on fire at the act. He pulls away and you’re left with the after-burn sensation ringing throughout your body.

“You’re going to need stitches to close the wound,” Ryan explains as he removes his gloves and sets them beside him on the bed, “But on the bright side, the wound doesn’t appear to be too deep. A bandage will work for tonight and I’ll bring you in for stitches tomorrow. You’ll heal up and be able to return to work in no time.”

“Let me guess, by “return to work” you mean “return working for the crew”. Am I right?” 

Ryan gives you a puzzled look. “What else would I have meant?”

You shake your head at him. Unbelievable. “Were you not there in the office like, thirty minutes ago? I don’t want to go back to you guys! I want to go back to having my life! Having a job where I can help people instead of killing them!”

You turn around to face him, getting on his eye level. “I _killed_ people today, Ryan.”

“...So did I?”

Your heart sinks and you slowly lean away from him on the bed. A long moment goes by between the two of you. _No_ , you realize, _he could never understand_. Look at him! He was a criminal. Ryan, Geoff- all of them! They were all the same. How could you ever expect them to understand? 

You stand to your feet, ignoring the biting pain in your back as you cross the room to the door. You feel Ryan’s eyes on you but he doesn’t move to stop you. Without a second thought, you twist the knob to leave, just wanting distance from your captor and you. You regret the action immediately.

You let out a cry, dropping the knob from your grip and retracting your arm instantly, cradling it close in your other hand. Damn! You would think being stabbed with a knife would be the last thing you forget but apparently not!

Teeth clenched tight together, you slowly reach back and touch barely above where the stab wound was. Your breath hitches as your fingertips trail over the exposed skin. You wait. Then let out a breath of relief. It didn’t look like any blood had leaked back out. 

“Where are you trying to go?”

You look back, not bothering to try and hide your surprise to find the masked man directly behind you. The bed hadn’t even alerted you of his movement. You guessed it was because everything in your life, including your room, suddenly hated you.

And the last thing you needed right now was to let your guard down. Especially around him. Your gut was still warning you that he was here for more than simply treating your wound. Was he here on a mission? Did Geoff send him? You shake your head. Now wasn’t the time. Ignoring him, you turn back to try the door once more, managing to catch him rolling his eyes and moving his arm somewhere out of your view before you do so. 

After a few seconds you finally grip the handle and pull, hearing the satisfying click of the door unlocking. You move to pull. And the door doesn’t budge. You try again. Nothing. Finally you look up to see what was stopping your escape. 

God damn it.

A muscular arm pins the door to its archway, preventing you from leaving. Ryan stares down at you, blue eyes burrowing into your (E/C) ones. His entire form towers over you like a menacing shadow. You boldly bring your face up to him and frown, trying not to let your nerves show.

“Let me out.” 

Ryan shakes his head.

“Ryan, I’m serious.”

Another head shake. 

You groan, turning completely around to face him and cross your arms to the best of your ability. 

“What do you want from me?” you demand, “Are you going to kill me? Tell me to stay with you freaks? Well guess what, I’ve already told you. I’m not joining your crew. I’m doing what’s left of my part and then I’m leaving. And you can’t stop me.”

You were expecting a reaction: him being upset, mad, or… just something! But no, there was no reaction to your words from the brooding form in front of you. It was like everything was frozen. Silence hung in the air and neither of you moved. And while you tried to stand tall and look confident, you find yourself ever so quickly shrinking before his gaze. 

Then the silence is broken as his two muscular arms swipe you from your spot and you find yourself slung over his shoulder like a ragdoll. You cry out in protest and squirm in his grip, shouting for him to put you down! But he doesn’t listen. He moves back through the room and over to the bed. He flops you down on the covers with ease and your breath hitches in your throat.

He lets out a small chuckle at your reaction, “Consider yourself stopped.”

You tense. You didn’t think you had ever heard the man laugh before and it piques your interest. He was smiling now, his eyes softening and body relaxing into a playful state. Obviously there were still signs of his hostility and unpredictably, but overall in the present moment, he actually seemed comfortable.

You sit up pouting. He begins to step back but something makes him stop. His eyes lock on the bed and then your shoulder. Not giving you time to react, he was already reaching out and touching your injured shoulder, as gingerly as would a stranger to a wounded animal. He turns you partly around so he could get a better look. What was happening? You begin to feel lightheaded as you try to look. 

Oh no…

You spot it easily. A small but thick spot of red on the cover below you. Looks like the force of hitting the blanket caused some blood to begin leaking back through the wound. 

You hear Ryan hum again. He grabs a large bandage from the open first-aid kit. Without leaving you much of a choice, he takes your uninjured arm and pulls you to the side, exposing your shoulder to him a bit better. He begins to apply the bandage.

You take the chance to look around. You notice that this was really the first time you two had been alone since the fake date fiasco. The thought of that night makes you sick to your stomach. You move your gaze back to the man beside you. After a moment, he finally senses your accusing stare and looks over once he finishes the applying the bandaid,

“What?”

“It doesn’t bother you?”

“What doesn’t?” He repeats.

You gesture between the two of you. “We haven’t talked in almost a week when you pretty much abandoned me during a mission and now you’re pretending everything is good between us?”

He holds your glare for a moment. “...Is it not?”

“I-,” You suddenly stop, unsure what to say. “N-no! It’s not!”

Ryan sits back. He motions for you to check it out. You gingerly reach back to rub your fingertips over the woven fabric. It stayed in place. You move your arm a little bit, testingly, to see if the bandaid held. It did. You sigh and give him a thankful nod. At least it was protected now. You still weren’t sure if you needed to be worried about anything like it reopening or about any bacteria spreading but you also guessed that you would be told more tomorrow when Ryan supposedly brought you in for stitches. 

Ryan…

You catch his eyes, pulling your wounded shoulder close with your other hand. An uneasy flicker of doubt crosses his face. You shake your head at him,

“Why are you helping me?”

The question doesn’t seem to catch him off guard but he does hesitate to respond at first. “Well...you’re hurt aren’t you?”

“No I mean, clearly someone had to send you to come here and help me.”

He shakes his head, almost sadly. “No. I just wanted to help...”

No way. This wasn’t right. Ryan wasn’t like this.

You remember his hostility from literally a week ago. How he kidnapped you at gunpoint, how he stalked you methodically for the crew, how he even got into your bedroom once before. He left you at the diner on a mission and yet now was when he decided to be nice? No. No this wasn’t the Vagabond you were introduced to. No way this couldn’t be Ryan either. He wouldn’t have come all this way to help you. 

Except...he did?

“Gavin’s going to be alright by the way,” he says, changing the subject, “Thanks to you, I mean. I’m lucky I found you guys when I did. Things could’ve been a lot different.”

“Yeah…” You bite your lip, “Ryan?”

“Hm?”

“...Thank you.”

This is what catches him off guard. You hear his quick intake of breath, clearly not expecting those words from your mouth. You hang your head apologetically. “I’m sorry for today. I...I don’t know what I was thinking. Back in the office I just-...I got scared.”

“I know. And I also know the others would like to hear that too. The apology I mean,” he tells you. Then he leans forward, closing in the distance between your bodies, “I think you should reconsider what Geoff said,” he suggests softly. 

You nod. He was right after all. You really had jumped the gun on being mad didn’t you? They still trusted you and now wanted to give you more freedom than you had before. You knew you could still do good. And if you were able to make it out of this, who was to say there wasn’t still at least a small chance to become chief of police? Maybe you really should consider taking the job...it would only last until the heist after all.

“(F/N)?” A sudden voice outside the bedroom door calls with a makeshift knock. 

You and Ryan pull apart instantly. You cough to clear your throat and dismiss the heat rising to your face. You felt like you had just been caught and you didn't know why, the two of you hadn’t even done anything. 

Luckily Ryan doesn’t react as badly as you, simply flashing his eyes to the door in interest.

“C-come in.” You call.

The knob twists and the door opens, a familiar form stands in the doorway. 

“I know you probably don’t want to see me but I figured-”

Jeremy freezes halfway through the archway. His eyes flash over you, mouth falling open. You quickly look away in embarrassment, pulling the sports-bra strap back over the wound and over your shoulder nervously. Your mind races with what to tell him but when you raise your sights back up at him, you find his attention already preoccupied elsewhere.

He stares at Ryan beside you, lounging back on your bed without expression. His eyes pass between the two of you, analysing the situation. Then he returns his gaze to you, a hard emotion appearing deep in his eyes. He pulls his right arm out of view behind his back and coughs uneasily as well.

“I’m sorry. I appear to be interrupting something.”

“No!” You call, standing to your feet, “No it’s not like that!”

His expression was clear that he didn’t believe you. You groan and gesture to Ryan. “He was helping my with my wound.” You do a small turn so he could see the bandage on your skin. 

“You’re still going to need stitches.” Jeremy responds without hesitation, not even bothering to look at the bandage itself.

Before you could say anything, Ryan had risen to his feet as well. 

“I know,” he tells him, “I already told her I’d bring her to get them tomorrow.”

“Did you now…”

You flicker between the two males, not sure what to say and much less what to do. You can see them communicating silently with their eyes. About what? Who’s to say. 

But as the silence drags on and a new tension replaces itself in the room, you decide you have to do something.

You walk up to Jeremy, offering an apologetic frown. “Look, Jeremy. I’m sorry...for earlier I mean. Actually, the whole day. I was out of line and frustrated and- I guess what I’m trying to say is that I made a mistake and I’m sorry.”

Jeremy breaks the staring contest with his crew member to look down at you. The icy glint from before now melts into something much more gentle. He searches your face, wanting to see if he could tell whether you were being honest or not. When he finds what he’s looking for, you see him swallow and rub a hand through his short brown hair.

“It’s uh...don’t worry about it,” he dismisses, “You were right to be mad. I just wish you and Geoff could’ve-”

“I know.” You interrupt, “And you’re right. Both of you are. While I’m not happy with this, I think I would be willing to talk it back over with Geoff. Maybe we can come to an agreement on it?” 

“I think he would appreciate that. All of us actually,” Jeremy says, smiling in approval. But it disappears as quickly as it came when he looks back to Ryan.

“Some of us more than others apparently,” he mutters.

Before you can say anything more, Jeremy has already turned and began to make his way to the hall. He throws a glance back as he leaves, but it’s not at you, “Goodnight, (F/N). I’ll see you tomorrow.”

And just like that, he was gone. Though you could’ve sworn you saw him hiding a small first-aid kit remarkably similar to Ryan’s as he left…

You blink a few time. Why was he-? You don’t get to dwell on it for long because you feel sudden weight on your uninjured shoulder. You turn to look up at Ryan. He was watching after the door but then brings his gaze down to you. He offers a nod.

“I guess it’s my turn to leave as well then. It’s getting late.” He moves to the doorway, calling back, “Remember, try not to reopen the wound tonight okay?”

“What do I do if it does?”

He stops and narrows his eyes at you warningly, “You won’t.”

“ _But_ ,” you press, “If I _do_?”

You’ve never really had an injury like this before. And while you knew how to minimally treat other officers going through the pain, you doing it by yourself wasn’t something you had experience with. The worst thought that crossed you mind was ending up bleeding out or something in the middle of the night. A knot of anxiety sends your stomach churning. 

As if to read your distress, Ryan sighs and puts a hand on the side of his neck. “Would it make you feel better if I stayed in case something happened?”

“No” was your immediate response. But then you paused and thought about it. If something were to happen, it would be a lot faster, not to mention a lot safer, to have someone with basic medical knowledge just the floor below you. You nod.

“Wait- uh...Yeah, actually. If that’s okay of course.”

He nods as well, glancing around. “Okay...I guess I’ll be downstairs then. Come find me if you need me.”

You watch him leave the room. His footsteps trail down the stairwell and you listen until you hear them disappear downstairs into the living room. Then you shut your bedroom door and climb into bed. Let’s face it. Today was a long day and you wanted sleep for as long as possible.

As you lay there under the covers you mind wanders to what Geoff was going to say tomorrow. Would he even want to talk to you? You didn’t know. You hoped that he would. Maybe Jack was right? That you were still good and you could go back to the department after this was over. Hell, you would have a greater understanding of criminals and gang mentality and procedures now than if you hadn't been kidnapped. 

This makes you smile slightly but the frown quickly replaces it again.

You wanted to look on the brightside. You really did. But working in this crew has proven itself to be much different and difficult than any other you’ve ever seen or experienced. You needed to make a plan. One that would let you off the hook with the crew once it was all over. One that would send you back to the department with your head held high. 

You roll over in the bed, staring up at the ceiling. If only your coworkers could see you now...held hostage and working for criminals. You scowl. They would probably disown you if they knew. Treat you like the people you used to treat. But...you guessed you really were a criminal now. Everything you’ve done so far...while, yes, was under pressure, you still did. That wasn’t a viable excuse in court. No one would believe you. 

With a sigh, you turn and press the light switch attached to your bedpost. It flickers off and leaves you in a pool of black.

You needed to sleep. Tomorrow was going to be a long day.

 

***

 

_Buzz…buzz…buzz…_

You blink your eyes open, squinting into the darkness now suddenly being lit by a light coming from the pillow beside you. You sit up, yawning and grabbing the vibrating object from the fabric. You roll it between your hands. The texture was cool and for a second you couldn’t place exactly what it was. 

Then it hits you and suddenly you’re wide awake.

You snap your eyes over to the alarm clock. It was only about 5 in the morning. You turn back to your phone, now resting in your hands comfortably. How did-? When did-? You couldn’t understand how your phone got into your room, much less on your pillow? 

You turn on the screen and find the culprit for the buzzing. A message. You tap the screen and wait for it to load. The message was from an unknown number and written in the chat box were seven simple words along with a set of pictures. You scan over the text, breath leaving you in an instant. 

**You’re going to pay for this, bitch.**

Attached to the message were three pictures...each of the men you had gotten killed during the mission. The pictures left nothing to the imagination, you could easily see where they were shot and bled out from. Where their eyes rolled back in their head…

You didn’t realize you had moved until you were already in the bathroom throwing up, heaving and gasping as the images of the corpses haunt your vision. You were dizzy, struggling to stay up. 

No...no it couldn’t possibly...how did…WHO DID THIS?!

When you could breathe relatively okay again, you shakily stand to your feet, using the sink for support. You knew what you needed to do.

You rush from the bathroom and head down the stairs to go find Ryan.


	16. The Midnight Coffee Run

You desperately grip the stair railing, knees threatening to buckle under your weight. Down below in the living room, you stare out into the thick inky blackness. The blinds are drawn and the tv is off. You can’t tell where anything is but that's not what mattered. You needed to find him. Now. 

You creep down the remaining steps, inching forward into the room and squinting hard. It was no use. Your eyes were taking too long to adjust. Reaching down to your hand, you switch on the flashlight feature of your cell phone. Sweeping the beam around the room, you quickly spot a sleeping figure on the couch. 

There!

You switch off the light and run to Ryan’s side, throwing yourself to your knees beside him. _Come on!_ You inwardly beg, _Please wake up!_ You grab hold of his shoulder, ready to shake him awake, when he does something you don’t expect. 

He was already shaking.

Ryan lay wrapped tightly in the woven fabric of one of the blankets you had once posted in front of your living room window. Yet he was trembling, much like you were. In the darkness as your eyes begin to adjust, you see part of his face, the other half hidden by the loosened hair from his ponytail. His expression is contorted, held together in what you could easily describe as agony. His breathing hitched and his chest bobbed with furious breathing. You recognize it in an instant.

He was having a nightmare.

You grab him firmly and shake his shoulder hard, shouting his name! 

And he’s up in a flash. 

Ryan gasps! You leap back as he attempts to fly to his feet, thrashing and crying out much like a startled animal would! He gets tangled in the tight fabric and falls back to the cushion with an awkward thud! Then, realizing he can’t fully escape the blanket, he wrestles his arm out and whips something at you. Your eyes widen and you let out a startled cry as you recognize the silver sheen of a blade. He aims the knife at you threateningly, strands of his midnight black hair frizzed out over his wild eyes. 

But you can see how terrified he is. How badly the weapon is trembling in his fist... 

You scoot back a few feet, holding up two shaky hands. You weren’t sure if he could even see you in the dark, but offer the gesture nonetheless. 

“Hey, hey it’s okay” you tell him softly but quickly. “It’s just me- It’s me. You’re okay.”

His panting begins to slow and he eases up, a mortified expression making its way to his features as he stares down at you. You hear your name whispered and suddenly the knife tumbles to the floor, echoing like a gunshot through the room. There's a pause. Then Ryan shakes his head, moving both hands up to his forehead. He squeezes his eyes shut and groans.

“Fuck, I- I didn’t mean-...I’m sorry, (F/N).”

“No, no don’t apologize...” You mutter, watching him carefully. “It’s okay.”

 _It wasn’t okay_. But if that’s what you had to say to not only calm him down but save yourself the pain of another stab wound, hell yeah you were going to say it. He reaches up and pulls out the hair tie, letting his black hair fall free and hang loosely over his broad shoulders. 

Ryan lets out a shuddering sigh then looks over at you. “Did you need something?” 

He was trying to move past the encounter, that was obvious. But the look on his face, pleading, still made you uneasy. Had he always look this tired?

You snap your attention back to the matter at hand. You reach down and pull up the text from your phone, both of you squinting into the bright light as you hold the device inches from his face.

“Look at this,” you urge.

He takes it from your hand, lowering it down to see the screen better. 

“I found it on my pillow,” you explain, “I-I don’t understand. How did they get my number? How did they get into my apartment!”

There’s hesitation in his hawklike eyes as he reads the message. He taps on the pictures, turning the phone to get a better view. After seeing what they were, his expression changes to a dry look and he pockets the phone. The room falls back into darkness.

“You don’t need to worry about it,” he mutters, standing to his feet with you quickly following to yours. “It’s just someone who wants to make you scared.”

“Well they accomplished that!” You yell, making him flinch slightly from the volume, “What the hell do I do about this?”

“ _You_ aren’t going to do anything. Nothing is going to happen as long as you don’t interact back. Now, let’s get you back to bed.”

He takes your arm and begins to lead you back upstairs but you plant your feet deep into the carpet, refusing to budge. He gives you a scolding look which you angrily return with a doubtful one. You hug your arms to your chest. This feeling was getting too familiar now. The fear of being tracked. The fear of the unknown coming after you. It was like when you found out the crew were tailing you, only worse. You glance over your shoulder into the kitchen and dining room to make sure nothing was there, even though you knew full and well that you couldn’t see that far in the dark. You turn back to Ryan.

“...Are they going to kill me?”

It’s silent and the air instantly grows spoiled at the question. There's a long moment where Ryan can't meet your eyes. He reaches down and checks your phone again. You hear him sigh as he clicks the phone screen back off and Ryan slumps back down on the couch, scooting over and patting the spot beside him.

“Come here.”

You struggle to find something to say. What was he going to do? You will your legs to move and hesitantly sit down beside him, trying to leave some space between the two of you. He watches without a word then grabs the blanket he had used earlier, lifting it up and pulling it over your lap. Next, he grabs the remote from the side table and turns on the tv. It’s just some filler channel, a random show about celebrity gossip. You feel the couch shift as Ryan relaxes into the fabric, sitting back to rest his head on the back cushion. He glances your way then back to the tv.

“Don’t worry about it, okay? I’ll let Geoff know what’s going on when he wakes up. For now just try to relax.”

Relax. Like that was possible anymore. But strangely enough, something inside you actually feels comforted. Like you really shouldn’t have to worry now. That you were safe, protected now that you weren’t dealing with this alone. 

Must be the blanket.

The two of you watch the show until the end of the episode. Nothing really interesting happened but you slowly begin to feel your anxiety slip away. That wasn’t to say it was gone completely, you were still terrified out of your mind. But as the tv plays and you listen to Ryan’s slowing breathing, you find yourself easing up. 

After the commercial break for the second episode starts, you lean over to Ryan. His eyes were closed and his breathing slow but somehow you could tell that he wasn’t asleep. You lightly touch his wrist. 

“Ryan?”

No response.

You try again and he finally opens one of his eyes to peer over at you. You frown. 

“How did my phone get into my room?” You pause, “Did you put it there?”

To your surprise, he actually nods. He sighs, sitting up and explaining how he found it outside the front door not long after he went downstairs. Apparently he didn’t think much of it, thought maybe you dropped it coming up with Michael and figured he would return it to you. 

“I won’t lie, this is definitely a breach in security,” he tells you, “I don’t know who dropped it off or how they found this place. But that’s something I’ll discuss with Geoff later. Now please, just go to sleep.”

You shake your head stubbornly, reeling from what he just told you. It was clear that whoever sent you that text was the one who returned your phone. It wasn’t that they got all the way in to your room like you had thought, but they _had_ found your apartment and gotten all the way to the front door. And that scared you more than anything.

Hm…

You glance back over to your captor- ...crew member. 

Speaking of scared…

“Ryan?”

“What?”

“Were you having a nightmare?”

It wasn’t a surprise that he doesn’t answer. His eyes don’t even leave the tv, not really watching but staring somewhere beyond the flashy graphics. He looks lost. You try to pick your words carefully,

“I used to have nightmares a lot a few years ago,” you mutter, “I know what it’s like.”

Nothing. He doesn’t even blink.

“If you ever need to talk, just let me know. Maybe I can help.”

Still nothing. 

The channel returns to its programing, some show about the latest celebrity overdose. You lay back on the couch, pulling the blanket up to your chin and letting your head fall into the cushion. 

The tv plays for a while, maybe another thirty minutes before you finally feel calmed down enough to close your eyes. Sleep was beginning to make its way back to you.

You begin to drift in and out of a light sleep. Every noise you heard jolted you back into reality, but not for long. The last time it happens you can’t point out what exactly woke you. All you could tell was how silent it had gotten. Where did the noise go? 

Struggling to open your eyes, you tilt your head up just enough to look around and see what was going on. The tv had been turned off again. To your left you see Ryan sitting up with his elbows on his knees and his head hung low. He takes in a breath before raising his face to you.

You quickly close your eyes, resuming your sleep-like breathing. Why you were pretending to be asleep? You weren’t sure. But you continue the act, focusing on how your chest expanded and contracted with light breaths. 

There’s a period of silence, then there’s movement from his side of the couch. You feel his burning eyes on you and hear him mutter quietly, “Nobody can help me...”

The couch shifts as he stands and his footsteps make their way through the downstairs kitchen. Where was he going? You want to stop him, tell him not to leave! That you don't want to be alone! But your body won’t listen. It's falling back asleep. The last thing you hear is the front door gently clicking open and shut before your eyelids officially close and you sink back into a deep sleep.

***

The pleasant aroma of cooking food fills your nostrils and draws you from your sleep. 

You blink open your eyes, trying to adjust to the early morning light filtering in through the open window blinds. Sitting up, you find yourself on the living room couch, a thick woven blanket laying over your body. The room was empty with the tv back on and playing a local news channel softly in the background. 

You peer toward the kitchen, spotting a figure hunched over a plate at the countertop. They ate slowly, lost in thought it seemed. You glance around before slowly removing the blanket from your legs, skin welcoming the cool air with delight. You swing your feet over onto the floor and stand, stretching your back and walking over to the figure.

“Good morning-” you begin but stop a few feet from the counter, surprised to find another person in the room as well. 

Jack looks back, eyes wide in surprise. You equal her reaction as you look down to find one of your frying pans in her hand. Jack was cooking? You bring your attention back to her face. Her eyes soften and she offers you a light smile. “Morning, (F/N). I didn’t expect you to be up already. Are you hungry?”

You glance back down towards the sizzling pan she gestures to, steam floating out from under the lid. It smelled amazing. You take a seat next to Ryan and nod your head. “Um, sure. Thank you.”

She returns to working on breakfast, readying a plate as you watch from the opposite side of the counter. Silence falls back over the room but it’s a comfortable kind of silence. Jack finishes with the plate and she slides it over to you before starting on her own. You grab a fork and begin to eat, realizing that, not only was Jack an amazing cook, but that you hadn’t eaten since breakfast the previous day. You gulp down the food eagerly. 

By the third or so bite, you look over at Ryan. He’s staring down his food, barely moving to eat. His shoulders are tense and his forehead unusually pale. His hand remains wrapped around a fork that he uses to pick at the eggs on his plate with. 

“Geoff will be here soon,” Ryan suddenly mutters while you’re mid-chew. You quickly wonder if he could feel your gaze and face away but continue to watch him from the corner of your eyes. He returns to scraping over his meal with the teeth of his fork. Upon closer inspection, you notice the purple marks under his eyes. And a brief whiff of something makes you pause to sniff the air. Had he been smoking?

“I decided to come early,” Jack suddenly jumps in when she spots you eyeing Ryan questioningly, “Ryan called me earlier to come with Geoff but it was probably better I got here when I did. Which speaking of…” She turns to Ryan, “What were you doing here this morning? I thought we agreed to leave her alone for the night?”

Her tone was more playful than you expected, on the verge of teasing. And it actually got Ryan to look up at her. Unfortunately it wasn’t for long. As his eyes fall on her, something seems to click inside him. His eyelids fall again and he goes back to staring at the plate. Jack looks upset by this but she tries to conceal it with a forced smile. She turns back to you,

“I apologize if he scared you last night. He told me you got really worked up about something.”

You remember the text in an instant and nod. “Yeah, but it wasn’t because of him. I actually asked him to stay last night to watch over my wound.”

The shocked look on her face and the warning glance from Ryan was all it took for you to realize she didn’t know. No one must’ve told her. And you got the feeling that she probably wasn’t _supposed_ to know.

You bite your lip. Great, now you had to show her. 

Twisting around in the chair, you pull down your sports bra strap enough to show her the bandage over the wound. Her eyes light up but this time in anger. She puts a hand to her hip and eyes Ryan. 

“You never thought to tell us about this?”

He shrugs, “Jeremy knew about it too.”

Jack huffs, returning back to her own plate of food. “You’ll have to take her to the boys and get her patched up professionally, you know?”

He grunts in return, finally taking a bite of his food.

You watch them bicker without words, the two speaking through their eyes and brief expressions. Finally, Ryan breaks the code and swivels around in the bar stool, turns his back to the counter. Jack accepts the victory and finishes with the stove, flipping the knob to turn it off. The sound of grease continuing to burn against the pan sends soft crackling through the room. You take it as a sign to continue eating your meal. 

Just as you scrape up the last of your breakfast into your mouth, the front door swings open and Geoff struts in. His hair is a mess and his expression made him look like he hadn’t slept all night. He moves down the steps into the apartment, making his way to the kitchen. 

“Morning, Geoff,” Jack greets while holding up her plate to him, “Did you want me to make you something?”

He shakes his head as he steps over, stopping beside Ryan at the counter. He eyes the man. 

“What are we dealing with?”

Ryan pulls your phone from his pocket and places it in Geoff’s outstretched hand. “This is what I called about.”

Geoff begins to read over the text, Jack joining him to examine the message for herself. You watch as Geoff narrows his brows together and he taps on what you guessed were the pictures. Jack bites the side of her lip, shaking her head. She steps away and resumes her spot behind the counter. 

“I don’t think you need to worry about this,” she tells you, parroting exactly what you've been told all morning.

Geoff nods in agreement. He hands Ryan back the phone. “It’s just someone trying to continue a fight that doesn’t need to be fought. We got what we wanted so there’s no need to worry.”

“That’s what you would think,” Ryan mutters, turning the fork over in his other hand, “I found the phone outside her front door last night. Someone brought it themselves.”

The statement clearly caught the two off guard. Geoff blinks hard at Ryan. 

“What?”

Ryan catches them up to speed on what happened last night. They listen patiently, glancing between one another as he talked. When he finished, Jack shakes her head again. Geoff fumbles with his hands.

“I don’t know what else to tell you,” he says to him, “We have people watching this place twenty-four hours. Somebody had to see something. Once we figure out who returned the phone, we can silence them.”

Geoff wisely ignores your unconscious but obvious shiver at that and continues, “Until then, as long as we don’t engage, everyone will be fine.”

He then reaches down to pull his sleeve up and check his watch. He looks up at the three of you.

“Sorry this was short lived but I gotta go. Michael is meeting me at the airport in twenty to transfer the van to a more secure spot.” 

Jack and Ryan wave him off and return to their plates. You look between them and your crime boss as he begins back to the front door. Standing from the stool, you hurry after him and follow him into the hallway. 

“Geoff- hey can we talk?”

He glances back at you, stopping and moving over to allow you room. You brush a strand of hair behind your hair, lowering your voice so the others couldn't listen in. 

“Look, um, I know you probably don’t want to see me right now but I just wanted to say that I’m sorry for yesterday.”

“...Okay?” 

He turns and begins toward the elevator. You flash out an arm to stop him, “No! I mean, for everything yesterday. The warehouse, the office- I’m sorry. I thought I was doing the right thing. I'm still mad and upset about it but...” You pause to see if he was following, then continue, “I thought about it last night and about what you said. If there really is no way for me to go back, and you’re still offering, I think I would be willing to join you. A-as a second priority thing...”

God. You looked like a total idiot right now.

Geoff studies you for a long moment. Then he dips his head and puts a reassuring hand on your shoulder, “I’m glad.”

And with that, he continues down the hall until he reaches the elevator. You watch him go, brain stuttering over what to make of that conversation. Were you accepted in? Or did he just tell you politely to piss off?

You weren't about to get an answer anytime soon judging by that interaction so you head back into your apartment. Ryan had moved to the living room while Jack remained in the kitchen, standing at the sink and washing dishes. You try to tell her not to worry about it and that you’ll take care of it but she waves you off. She tells you to go relax, worry about the wound for now, adding a pointed look at Ryan in the next room with that. He doesn’t say anything back.

Moving into the living room, you flop down on the couch beside Ryan. His gaze remains on the tv, once again barely acknowledging your presence. You study him from the corner of your eye, growing well aware of how much his demeanor had changed from the night before. How closed off he had gotten suddenly.

_“Ryan called me earlier to come with Geoff but it was probably better I got here when I did...”_

What did Jack mean by that? 

You bite your lip. When he left this morning...Where did he go? What made Jack so worried that she came before Geoff? Apparently Ryan hadn’t even showed them or told them completely about the message yet so it was highly unlikely she got worked up about that.

 _Unless,_ you realize, _it had to do with Ryan and his nightmare instead…_

You clear your throat quietly so as to not draw any attention from Jack in the kitchen, “So uh, do you believe what they say? That we shouldn’t worry about the message on my phone?”

No response.

“I talked to Geoff,” you try again, “I think he’s going to consider my apology. I mean, he didn’t actually say so but…”

Still nothing.

“Where did you go this morning?” you finally ask with a sigh, “I remember you leaving. What happened?”

“None of your business,” he finally replies, admittedly not the reaction you were hoping for. 

You nod in agreeance, holding up your hands in apology. “You’re right, I’m sorry. I was just worried-”

His face whipped toward you, startling you as he looks you over, eyebrow quirked in confusion. “You were what now?”

“I don’t know- I just know how bad nightmares can be. I was worried.”

He snorts and returns his attention to the television. “What the hell would you even have nightmares about? Not getting a raise at work? The cashier skimping you on a penny in the grocery store?”

You open your mouth to object but he continues, now sitting up straight and grimacing hard at the floor, “You have no idea what it’s like...Some things you just can’t forget. No matter how badly you want to.” he shakes his head as if to shake off some memory then glowers at you, daring you to speak despite his hard, angry gaze. “I don’t need your pity.”

“I wasn’t-...I’m not pitying you, Ryan.” You mummer in surprise.

“How it this not pity? You tell me you’re worried about me and that’s not pity to you?”

You hold up a hand to slow him down, narrowing your eyes as your confusion turns into anger. “Remember last night in my room? You were helping me with my shoulder. I asked why and you said because you only wanted to help. That’s what I’m trying to do for you.”

He stiffened as though you had struck him. His jaw clenches and he huffs, leaning back into the couch with his arms crossed. You mirror his annoyance and cross your arms too, moving your gaze to the tv so you didn’t have to look at him.

“If you ever have trouble with it, seriously,” you mutter, “come find me and I can help you sleep.”

To be clear, you meant it in the most innocent way- that you could help him relax by just being there or something- but when Ryan suddenly tenses beside you, you race to wonder if he took your words the wrong way. 

However, before you can stutter out an explanation, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out your vibrating phone. 

Someone was calling you. 

The two of you share a look, the same thought making its way to your minds. Was it the biker gang? Were they calling you now?

Ryan tries to hand you the phone but you shake your head frantically. No way in hell were you going to answer those creeps! He tires to force it into your hands but you just toss it back at him, hitting him square in the chest. "You answer it!" you mouth. He narrows his eyes and with a growl, he stands to his feet takes a few steps to the side. With a glance back at you, he taps the screen and holds it up to his ear. 

“Who is this?” he demands, voice covered in ice.

There’s a pause and he suddenly goes rigid. You watch his expression change to surprise. He slowly nods at the phone. “Yeah...she’s right here. Hold on…”

He hands the phone to you. You send him a questioning look but he only blinks uncertainly. You press your lips tight together and raise the phone to your ear.

“H-hello?” your voice waivers. 

“(L/N)! Where the hell have you been!”

“Chief Burns-!”

Well shit...

“I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for the last week and a half! Where are my damn reports?!”

You share an alarmed look with Ryan as you try to come up with an explanation, “I-I’ve been working on them, sir-”

“Nevermind, I don’t give a shit,” he interrupts with a hiss. There’s a pause and when he returns, his voice is lowered, still angry, but now much more terse. “Look, something’s come up. I’m low on staff so I need you to come down to the station and take over my patrol shift.”

“What? Why? I thought I didn't do patrol anymore?”

“Apparently you don't submit reports either. Does it look like I care? You're going to do whatever I damn well tell you to do, (L/N).”

“My apologies, sir...”

“Just get down here now.”

The phone disconnects and you’re left listening to the dial tone. You didn't even have to raise your eyes to know that Ryan was staring at you. With a sigh, you throw up your hands and shake your head at him grimly. “Looks like I better get going.”

“Where?” he demands as you stand to your feet and begin to collect your things.

“The station,” you explain, “I’m on patrol duty apparently.”

“But what about your stitches?”

You pass Jack and move into your office, ignoring the stacks of boxes that had been clearly rifled through by the crew. You bend down and pick up your old bag, shifting it carefully around your side so it could hang over your uninjured shoulder. Ryan blocks the doorway, confusion lining his features. Whatever was bothering him before is now long gone. 

“They’ll have to wait-”

“That’s not a good idea-”

"Ryan, we don't need each others pity, remember?" you suddenly hiss back at him. 

He flinches, taken aback by your malice. You jump too, but more so from his reaction than from your own words. A rush of guilt passes through you and you bite the inside of your cheek. However before you can apologize, he shifts his weight and moves to the side of the door frame, looking away. 

“How long are you going to be out?” He asks quietly.

You shrug and squeeze past him, now moving upstairs to your room to grab your old uniform, the Vagabond following close behind like an anxious puppy. You search your closet and pull the uniform from a hanger, turning to Ryan as he attempts to enter the small space with you. 

“Out, I need to change.” 

“But-”

Your phone interrupts with another text. You check it, finding a message from Burnie. 

**Time is ticking, (L/N).**

You groan at the screen and shove it into your pocket. “Look, I’m sorry- I gotta go. I can’t risk being fired, not now.”

You don’t wait for him to turn around before you start to strip from your current outfit and into the thickly stitched navy-blue uniform. Next came the boots and then finally the duty belt, which you fish out from under a pile of clothes in the closet. You mentally scold yourself for not hanging it up like you usually did with your gear. Then again, you didn't exactly have the time to go back to your old patterns like that. 

Once fully dressed and ready for work, you push past Ryan and hurry down the stairs. 

“And where do you think you’re going dressed like that?” Jack calls as you pass her to the front door. She looked just as puzzled as Ryan. You adjust your bag and pause, turning to face her.

“Do you mind giving me a ride to the station? My boss called. I need to go in for work apparently”. You jerk a thumb toward the front door, adding, “I promise it's legit.”

Jack picks up her keys from the counter and nods. “Um, sure I guess?” She turns to the figure making his way down the stairs, “Ryan, are you coming with us? I can drop you off at the penthouse?”

“I’m fine,” he grumbles, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I think I’m going to stay here a little while longer.”

“Are you sure-” Jack starts but Ryan cuts her off with a glare.

“I’m _fine_ , Jack.”

Jack’s lips thin in displeasure but she nods at him and ushers you to the door. The two of you leave the apartment and head down to the garage where you hop into the blue sports car she must’ve driven over earlier. 

As the motor growls to life, you lean back into the seat and watch the room fill with morning light as the garage door slowly pulls up. _It’s just one patrol shift. Easy,_ you tell yourself.

***

It was bad. A glance at the dashboard clock told you it was already passing hour eleven of being on shift. And you still had more to go. Who knew Burnie was having you cover not only his patrol shift but Joel’s as well? 

Pricks.

You sigh in the empty patrol car, putting a hand over your eyes to try and will away your growing headache. You got it not long after hour four but it only got worse the longer you sat here. 

The night had been slow. You’ve been driving around the Rockford Hills territory waiting for calls or at the very least just something to happen. But it turns out that every criminal on the island had better things to do than break the law tonight. Your radio hadn’t even made a peep since you got into the car. Though it wasn’t off, that was for sure. You had checked and gotten scolded by the operator on the line. 

The sun had already gone back down and the stars had resumed their spots in the sky. 

It was peaceful.

All this time alone gave you more than enough time to think. You were still replaying the events with Ryan and the whole encounter after breakfast. He was just so...off. Then again, you didn’t really even know the guy. From past interactions with him, he’s always seemed to have had that kind of bi-polar change of attitude and mentality. One moment he was a murderous bastered with no concern for anyone else, the next, a playful and surprisingly caring team member.

But maybe there was a reason for it. It being an actual mental issue, you mean. You think back, recalling a lesson you learned about PTSD in police officers in one of your undergraduate classes. It wouldn’t be that much of a stretch to believe a criminal who has faced death more times than fingers on his hands could possibly have, at the very least, even the slightest version of PTSD. 

_Some things you just can’t forget. No matter how badly you want to..._

Then again, the entire crew would have to be suffering from PTSD if that were the case. After all, they seemed to be in this together. They all participated in life-altering heists and you hadn’t seen any of them showing signs of it. 

You shake your head and sigh, leaning the seat back so you could put your hands behind your head and try to relax. This crew was too fucking complicated.

A yawn breaks from your mouth. You were exhausted. Maybe you should just close your eyes for a little bit...Nothing was happening after all? You try to shake away the thought but your body was beginning to ache, the events of the last few days finally hitting all at once. Maybe a small nap wouldn't hurt- 

You suddenly find yourself gripping the wheel as the entire patrol car rocks hard! Quickly sitting up, you spot a dark black mass zoom past and continue moving down the street at a high rate of speed. Your adrenaline shoots up and a small smile makes it way to your face. The tiredness disappears instantly. You quickly fix your seat and flip on the lights and sirens, eagerly pulling out after the speeding car. 

It moved unnaturally fast, and you struggle to keep pace. Every corner they took, you follow close behind, foot pressing down harder on the gas as your cruiser bumps and rocks on the city streets. You grab your radio com and cry into the speaker, “This is the L.S.P.D! Pull your vehicle over!”

But the driver doesn’t stop. They continue weaving in and out of streets, beginning to head in towards the city. Your throat tightens. At the rate of speed this car was moving? You couldn’t let them get into the city, not where people were out driving or walking.

You begin to gain speed and crawl closer to the black and green sports car, getting ready to pull a pit maneuver. You flash your eyes down to the speedometer. You were going nearly 90 miles per hour! This guy was either a daredevil or a complete idiot! However, as you bring your eyes back to the road, a screams breaks from your mouth!

The sports car had suddenly slammed on their breaks, their bumper filling the view in your front windshield in an instant. Your heart stops and you stomp both feet on the brakes, screeching past them as they hit the gas and take a sharp right turn down a small ally. It does take a second, but your car jerks to a hard stop, leaving dark lines of tire tracks on the pavement. Your head nearly collides with the steering wheel. Your shaking and breathing hard, realizing just how close you had come to almost being involved in a serious collision. 

Turning, you look down the alleyway where the car had disappeared. You watch them out of the window. Then you punch the steering wheel. Hard. 

“Damn it!” You curse! “The one person who breaks the law and I lost them!”

No. No you weren’t going to let them win. You couldn’t. Your will to live was one thing but your stubbornness was another. 

You kick the car into gear once more, the motor letting out a groan of protest, and you hurry around the buildings to the other side just in time to see the sports car peak out from the other side of the ally. The driver seems to notice you because they quickly pull out from the alley and onto the road, taking off once more. 

“Los Santos Police! Cut off your engine!” You cry into the mic again as you resume the chase. 

The two of you wind in and out of the streets and roadways, almost plowing into each other numerous amounts of times. You pass the fire station, the golf course, and even the hairdresser you once payed a hundred dollars for cutting off just an inch of your hair. The drivers speed never idles but only gets faster. As if they were daring you to try and keep up. 

Your patience was running out. You pull out your radio, ready to call for backup! But then you freeze. This entire time, the two of you had never left the Rockford Hills district. Any time the driver approached the boundary line, they shot a quick 180 and began heading back the way you came. How did they know where the district ended so well? 

You grit your teeth.You were the only one on patrol tonight in this area. Without stepping even a pinky toe into the other areas meant you couldn’t call for outside backup. In short, you were alone in this. It was up to you. 

The two of you continue your tango for another five miles, reaching a rather deserted strip of road. You lean into the mic once more,

“L.S.P.D stop running, you asshole! Put it in park!” 

And to your shock, it actually does.

The sports car slows until it finally sits still, slightly perched up on the sidewalk. The engine remains running but you see the reverse lights flash for a second before resuming red. The car was officially in park.

You quickly park behind him and unbuckle your seat-belt, hopping out of the car. Then, you draw the pistol you borrowed from the armory locker and approach the vehicle in question. Your finger itches the safety release then readies beside the trigger in case the driver had other plans than to talk. 

“Hands up! Open your window and remove the keys from the engine!” You demand!

There’s a pause. Then the fully tinted window slowly rolls down. You take a cautious step forward. “The keys!”

You jump when, instead of keys, a large cardboard cup holder is held out the window. Two steaming cups of some drink rest in the center. 

You hurry to the side, aiming the weapon just below the drivers window, “Los Santos-!”

What. The. Fuck.

The driver smiles smugly out at you, wearing sunglasses even though it's pitch black out. He lowers them down to the brim of his nose and offers you a cup. 

“What seems to be the problem, officer?” 

You stand there, stuck in a moment of utter shock as you recognize the man. Did he really-? This whole time-? You shake your head, quickly putting the gun back in its holster and stiffening your body to try and not to rip him out of the car and beat him senseless. 

“You piece of shit! What the hell were you thinking?!” 

“I could say the same to you, officer,” he chimes, ignoring how furious you were, “Did you see how fast you were going?” He tsks at you which only fuels your outrage. “I don’t know about you but I’d say you were breaking the speed limit.”

“This whole time-?! I almost crashed into you! You could've hurt some-!”

“You’re right, you’re right,” he presses, motioning with his hands for you to lower your voice a tad. He then nods his head towards the drinks. “I can see that I’ve upset you. Let me make up for it.”

You frown and cross your arms. He shakes the drinks at you, motioning with his eyes to take one. You sigh. This guy. With a grumble, you do as he wants, taking a cup from the tray and him doing the same. He then takes the empty tray and tosses the trash out the other open window. You open your mouth to scold him for littering but he stops you by holding up his cup.

“Cheers, Officer (L/N).” 

You roll your eyes and an annoyed smile makes it way to your lips. You tap cups together.

“Cheers, Vagabond,” You tell him.

You both sip your drinks. It was coffee, you could tell the instant it hit your tongue. The mixture was on the sweet side, too much sweetener to be honest. But you swallow gratefully, not wanting to tell him otherwise. 

The drink doesn't seem to be his favorite either but he smiles after the first few gulps. You brush a strand of hair behind your ear, noticing that his own hair was back in the signature ponytail. The color in his face had returned as well. You draw a smirk, gesturing to the air around the two of you dramatically, 

“So you came out here, made me chase you down and nearly crash into you...for what? Some coffee?”

He shakes his head, “I’m here strictly on business. Someone's gotta keep their eye on you.” He then pulls his sunglasses back up. “Besides, seems like a pretty slow night.”

“Yeah, it usually is when people like you decide not to go out and commit crimes.”

“People like me?” He scoffs, playing along, “I thought maybe you could use some excitement in your dreadfully dull life. So if you think about it, I’m actually doing you a favor.”

You grin and he mirrors the smile. A brief shiver ripples through you and the sensation of butterflies in your chest make you look away. Must be the adrenaline.

“When’s the end of your shift?” He suddenly asks. You look down at your watch.

“In about four hours. Why?”

“Just wondering. I figured maybe I might check out some of these 24 hour restaurants.”

“Oh yeah?”

He reaches down and restarts the engine. He then looks over at you, “Just don’t be surprised if we happen to run into one another again tonight.” 

You laugh, standing from the side of the car. “No promises. By the way, how did you know where to find me? I thought I had a decent hiding spot.” 

“Would you believe me if I told you I happened to stumble upon it?” 

“Not at all.” 

“Hmm. You’re a smarter cop than you look. See you, (F/N).” He then put the car in drive and pulls off. 

You watch him speed away, hearing the car shifting gears as it disappears down the road in a flash. You peer down at the cup in your hand. Did he really go through all this effort to do this for you? Just to talk and have coffee together? Why?

You weren’t sure you had an answer. 

As you turn and get back into your squad car, you take a second to sit back and smile. This might not be so bad...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes I wish I could draw my story. You know, like really show the emotions and events as I see them in my head. But unfortunately for me I suck at drawing haha. Also has anyone noticed the lack of Vagabond with his black hair down? Cause I have and now I need it.


	17. The Hospital Visit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, I am so sorry this is almost a month and a half late. It's been really crazy lately and I have been writing and editing and writing and deleting and writing and adding on to this chapter for so long. I'm finally at a point where I feel satisfied enough to release it to you guys so that's pretty exciting. I really hope you like it. This chapter's got a bunch of boys that we haven't seen in either a while or as of up until this point so that's cool. 
> 
> Anyway! I'll just let you get into it and see for yourself. Enjoy!

Early morning sunlight drifts in through one of the partly cracked windows of the hospital office room. Along with the bright light comes a soft breeze that sneaks its way past the window screens, sending some papers on the desk beside you fluttering gently up and down. The breeze glides across your bare back and you try to withhold a shiver. You hadn't expected fall to come so quickly. 

Your shirt and bra are on a small table to your right next to an open, semi-large kit that held some interesting looking equipment. It wasn’t much, just a few intimidating sized tweezers, some forceps, a bandage or two, and some of those little gel packets you could get from the grocery store. 

Currently, you were gripping a pillow close to your chest, trying to focus on your breathing and not the young, attractive doctor sitting right behind you. The one with the brightest brown eyes you’ve ever seen. 

Aside from the outside noise of city life, inside the room is rather silent. You let the doctor do his work in peace, feeling him lean over your back as he delicately threads the suturing needle through your skin, stitching up the stab wound as if he had done it a thousand times before. 

To him it was easy to focus. He had no distractions. You on the other hand, were miserable. 

It was only about nine in the morning after your forever-and-a-day long shift and you were not in the best of moods. Ryan’s little game of cat and mouse had kept you on duty for almost an extra hour last night and with what little sleep you had gotten, you were ready to pass out right now if it weren’t for the knowledge you were currently half naked.

_Huh...hadn't Ryan seen you half naked when he broke into your apartment that one time? And then he barged into the bathroom when you were getting out of the shower?_

You can't help but shudder at the thought, not wanting to think about... _That_. Behind you, the threading pauses and a hand appears on your upper spine.

“Are you cold?” The doctor asks in concern.

A low blush appears on your cheeks and you shake your head, glad you were facing away from him. “N-no, I’m fine. Sorry. Just thinking about things.”

_Or at least really trying NOT to..._

The doctor resumes his work again and you lightly sigh to yourself.

Your body is aching all over, especially your legs from sitting around all night. Ryan kept his promise on visiting you throughout your shift and while it was kinda fun at first, he started taking more and more risks as the night dragged on. One of which consisted of him barreling straight past your department office, firing flares out his window at the both terrified yet amazed spectators. 

And yet the surprises hadn't ended there. Once you finally got home, you stumbled into your apartment and up the stairs, barely noticing the two crew members waiting for your return in the living room, and straight up passed out on your bed: gear, uniform, and all. You slept for maybe only a few hours before your bedroom door rocketed open and slammed against the wall beside it. You wake in an instant, nearly falling out of bed in confusion. Of course, when you look up you find that one-of-a-kind Jersey boy standing over you with a sly smile. You groan.

Was he still upset about the nose thing? 

Michael drags you out of bed, hands you some clothes he found on the floor of your closet, and practically has to dress you himself due to how exhausted you were. Next he drags you down to the garage and places you in a car. The entire time the question of whether he was kidnapping you again nagged in your mind but honestly? At this rate, you didn't really care to try and fight back. You were the crew's possession- their dog in a way- for now and they could do whatever they wanted. Which included...A hospital visit?

You stared out the window in confusion up at the white bricked building. Why the hell would the crew bring you here? But then you remember. The crew couldn't use someone who is injured for their heists. That _is_ why you're here after all. To help with their dirty work.

And with that last wonderful little thought, Michael dumps you on the doorstep of the hospital with a note detailing your appointment.

At least the experience so far wasn't bad. You were thankful, as weird as it sounds, that at least with your current state it made the pain of getting the stitches not as severe as you expected. Earlier the doctor had given the wound a through examination and once sure there was nothing of concern, he gave you a small shot to numb the area before he began with the sutures. And as a bonus, he brought a pillow for you to lean over while he worked on your back.

You squeeze said pillow closer to your chest. You would’ve had to get this done eventually. But maybe it could have been sometime after lunch...Or at the very least, maybe Michael could have let you pick the outfit you were going to wear... 

Your gaze shifts to your legs beside the table. You were really starting to consider the crews taste in fashion. Either Michael literally grabbed whatever he found first or he knowingly looked around and picked the two most ridiculous pieces of clothing you owned.

It makes you grimace. Even wearing your usual night clothes might’ve been less embarrassing. Let’s just say you’d rather feel exposed literally than exposed by wearing freaking zebra striped tights and a tuxedo graphic shirt Rusty once lent you but you never gave back.

“-in here, huh?”

You perk up, glancing at the doctor over your shoulder, “Huh? Oh, I’m sorry, what did you say?”

The doctor puts down a toothed forcep and shifts his procedural mask, “I said, it’s not every day I get to see a new face in here.”

You offer a weak smile. "Yeah, I didn’t know doctors did exams in their own offices nowadays.”

“It’s not often,” he admits, “However, I do take on special cases every now and then.”

You suddenly feel an unexpected pinch on your back and muffle a groan into the pillow. 

“Is it supposed to hurt like this?” You squeak.

“Well, I would get you some ibuprofen but you don’t seem like the type who would need it.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” You ask.

The pinch is soon replaced with a semi-soothing tingle as the doctor wipes some gel from one of the packets over your skin. The pain from the pinch disappears. The doctor then places a hand on your lower back and motions for you to sit up, pulling down his mask in the meantime. 

“It means you’ve apparently already gone two whole days with a two to three inch stab wound in your back. I highly doubt you need any help managing pain- you’ve clearly got it handled.”

The two of you laugh and he hands you your shirt and tells you to go ahead and get dressed. As you start to put on your bra, he packs his things up and turns away to allow you some privacy. 

You quickly pull on the shirt next, watching him from the corner of your eye just in case he thought to turn around. He didn’t.

Instead, he turns to a small closet in the corner and bends down to the lowest shelf. There, he places the suture kit away from any pestering eyes and once sure it couldn't be seen, he turns back to you, a mischievous smile making its way to his features. 

“So, I think I’ve waited long enough to ask. Just what is the Fake A.H Crew doing with such a high-ranking police detective?”

The question doesn’t register at first. You stare at him, confused, then horrified. All at once, the weight of a 40 ton eighteen wheeler comes crashing down on you. _He knows!_

You gape at him, stunned. How did he-?

The doctor holds up his hands and begins removing his gloves, “It’s alright, don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me. Doctor-patient confidentiality, and all.”

You bite your lip, eyes drifting to the door and making an analysis of how quickly he could react if you bolted. He didn’t appear to be a body-builder of sorts so you might not have to put up much of a fight if he tried to come at you. But then there was the problem of your shoulder… 

Around you, picture frames of his fellow colleges on the wall seem to be staring out at you, awaiting for your response as well. You don’t know what to do.

As if to sense your desire to run, the doctor simply shrugs his shoulders and moves back to his desk.

“You don’t have to tell me, (F/N). I’m not going to be upset if you don’t.”

“You...You know my name?”

“The crew told me a lot about you. Trust me, you’re safe here.”

You blink wildly. "You know the crew?”

“I’m their doctor,” he explains in a matter-of-fact tone, “I’ve done everything from gunshot wounds, stab wounds, injuries from head-on collisions- I mean, you name it. I’ve done it.” He frowns as he adds, “Even the more...unsavory work.”

You didn’t want to know what he meant by that last part. Instead, you tilt your head, trying to read his expression. “How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

“I was asked to come in for a house call about two nights ago, probably the same night you got stabbed if I had to guess. Gavin had gotten shot and I was the one who tended to him.”

Your mind drifts back to the penthouse after your little chat with Jeremy. Gavin did had a fresh bandage around his torso, didn’t he…

You chew the inside of your cheek, eyeing the doctor in interest. If this really was the Crew’s doctor, you should be fine to talk about them...Right?

“They...They need me for something,” you confess after a long silence, “Some heist. I don’t know much about it though- they keep me in the dark for the most part.”

“And how did you end up getting involved? I know the crew has their outside teams but I didn’t think they’d go for the one police detective hired to sniff them out.”

“They kidnapped me. They were threatening my family. I guess they wanted me to leave Los Santos so I could be out of their way.”

The shocked look on his face makes you pause. He eyes you curiously and tilts his head. “Really? I've never heard of the crew doing that before. I don’t mean to sound morbid but...how are you still alive?”

You shrug. “I’m not really sure to be honest. But now I just want to finish whatever they’re planning and go home.”

He offers you a pitying frown and an idea pops into your head. You lean in slightly,

"Say, if I asked you to call the police..." you trail off as he already began to shake his head,

"It would only be falling on deaf ears, I'm afraid."

"Right..." you mutter. It was worth a try.

The doctor stands to his feet and you follow to yours. He walks over to the door and puts a hand on the doorknob. "Well then, I wish you luck and I’m interested to see how it plays out.” 

He leads you into the hallway and down a few halls until you reach a nearby waiting room. There he turns to you, his voice hushed.

“I’ll let the crew know you're ready to be picked up. Until then, go ahead and wait in the lobby. Someone will be here soon.”

“Thank you, Doctor...” You blank, realizing you completely missed his name during first introductions. 

Your falter makes him chuckle and he holds out a hand. “Dr. Collins, but please, call me Trevor.”

“Trevor,” You repeat, willing the name to stick in your head as you shake his firm hand.

He nods then glances behind him, “Nurse, would you mind joining us for a second?”

Another man with strikingly similar features as Trevor saunters over, glancing between the two of you. “Yes?”

Dr. Collins places a hand your good shoulder and gestures to you. “This is (F/N), one of our new patients,” he emphasizes, “I need you to help her with some of the final paperwork while I call her ride.”

The nurse offers you a smile, though a confused one, and stretches out a hand to lead you to the front desk. “This way please.”

You pass Dr. Collins a curious look but he simply waves you off before moving toward a phone behind the desk. The nurse guides you to the front where he hands you a pen and a clipboard dug out from under a large stack of folders. 

“You just need to sign here, here, and here,” he points to a few blank lines which you quickly fill in with your signature. Once finished, he takes the board and points to the lobby. Someone will be by shortly to pick you up. Oh, and Ms. (L/N),” he pulls out a card from one of his pockets and hands it to you, “If you ever need us, please don’t hesitate to call.”

You pocket the card and offer him a nod. “I’ll keep it in mind. Thank you.” 

He steps away and returns to the back, slipping in through the large automatic doors. You watch him disappear before turning to the lobby. Now, where to sit?

It was a relatively large lobby which didn’t make too much sense in hindsight. The lobby held maybe about seventy seats and not even about ten of them were presently taken. The hospital itself was more like an Urgent Care of sorts rather an actual hospital. Which now that you thought about it, made perfect sense for the crew members to come here. Less patients and doctors equals less potential witnesses. 

Your eyes scan the faces and seats trying to figure the best place to sit. 

And as luck would have it, one seat in particular caught your eye. 

No fucking way.

You didn’t realize you had moved until you were already standing in front of the man sitting in the far right of the room. He wore plain clothes, something you hadn’t been expecting, and appeared to be favoring his right hand in his lap. He doesn’t notice your presence until you let out a soft cough.

“May I sit here?” You ask quietly, heart hammering in your chest from nerves.

The offer catches him off guard and you could’ve sworn he was about to turn you away, point out some of the other open chairs in the lobby, when he looks up and makes eye contact. You watch his face practically light up the moment he recognizes you. 

“(L/N)? Uh, yeah! Yeah,” he motions down to the seat, “Please, go ahead.”

You smile back, feeling your face heat up. It’s just been so long...You try to control your giddiness as you take a seat beside your old boss.

“Long time no see, huh sir?”

Matt smiles back, turning his body so he could face you better, “I would certainly say so.”

So many questions are running through your head, that you can barely stop to breathe, "How has the department been? What have you guys been up to? How are you, sir?” 

He waves his hand, “It’s okay, (L/N). You don’t need to call me sir around here. And as for work, nothing much. Same old paperwork and issues as always I guess." 

You're grinning ear to ear, “You know if I have to drop the formalities so do you. Just call me (F/N), okay?”

He laughs, "Alright." Then you watch his excitement suddenly turn to concern. “Wait, what are you doing here?”

Oh. Right. 

You awkwardly brush the back of your neck with your hand, “I uh, I got hurt while on duty..." you start, reminding yourself how careful you had to be right now. He couldn't find out about the crew. "I was looking for a member of the Fakes when I got jumped.”

It was a believable lie and it actually surprises you as you watch guilt spreads across your ex-boss’s face like wildfire. He looks to the ground then back at you. “Where did you get hurt?”

You point to your shoulder, vaguely explaining the injury and following with how you just got stitches for it this morning. You add a brave smile to assure him that you were fine. 

He doesn’t buy it for a second.

“I’m so sorry, (L/N)...This is my fault. If I hadn’t have assigned you-”

“Whoa whoa whoa,” you interrupt, surprised by the sudden change in attitude from him. “You didn’t do anything. It was an accident, honest. I wasn’t thinking and I paid the price for it. That’s all.”

He still doesn't appear convinced. 

“So uh,” you awkwardly hum in an attempt to change the subject, “What exactly are you doing here?”

He holds up his left hand and you notice a small twitch as he does so. He turns his palm up and removes part of a blood stained piece of cloth. You observe the deep, rigid cut riding the through the center. He looks away, grinning in embarrassment. 

“'Tried to do some yard work this morning. Guess you can see how that went...”

You chuckle quietly as you study it. “Accident with a weed wacker?”

“Something like that.” 

He returns the cloth back over the cut. “I just thought it would be best to get it looked at and patched up.”

You go to nod and continue talking but for some reason, you can’t shake the feeling that something was off. You glance around. Your chest drops when you notice Trevor glancing at you uneasily from behind the counter with the other nurses. His hand is raised to his ear and he’s muttering quietly into a phone. However, when he notices you looking, he turns away. Your frown grows. You then glance back down to Matt's hand. And the longer you stare at his hand, the more it felt wrong. Then you realize, he wasn’t wearing his ring again. 

You needed to tell him.

“Matt? Look, I have something I need to tell you.” You take a deep breath. “I know about them...Your family, I mean.”

Surprisingly, your confession doesn't have much of an affect on him. In fact, he nods like he had expected this to come up.

“Figures. You are a detective after all. It was only a matter of time...”

“I’m so sorry.” 

He waves off the apology before returning to your eyes. “Don’t worry about it. That’s for me to do.”

A long stretch of silence passes between the two of you and you aren't really sure where to look. Okay, this might not have been the best time to bring this up...But you were already committed to it now. 

“So you’re still looking for them? Even after all this time?” You ask.

He gives you a weird look but tries to disguise it with a smile, “Why wouldn’t I be? They’re my family...”

“What was she like- your wife I mean- if you don’t mind me asking?”

“No, I don't mind. She was-...is...the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met. She's strong, courageous... I'm so lucky to have married her." 

Matt stops and you don't fail to notice his clenched and trembling fist by his side. His eyes remain on the ground. He struggles to control his breathing and it's then that you're assailed by a terrible sense of regret. Here was one of your closest allies, someone you could put complete trust and faith in and him vise versa, and you were about to cause the man to cry. You never should have brought this up. 

"It was my fault they were taken," Matt mutters, "I did this to them. What kind of husband _does that_ to his wife? What kind of dad? I should've done more...If I had, maybe they wouldn't be..."

You struggle to resist the urge of placing a comforting hand on him, “Oh come now, don’t say that…”

“No, I’m serious,” he insists and laughs sadly to himself, “If I was half the man I was before...Maybe I would’ve found them by now…”

This time you don’t stop yourself. You place a timid hand on his knee and try to get his attention, which happens immediately. He stares over at you in surprise and you firmly shake your head at him.

“Matt...You know about him don't you? From my files?”

“Oh, (F/N)...It’s not like-”

“It is. Having your family disappear like that- just gone in an instant? It’s hard. It's painful. And there’s been more than once where that night haunts me every second of every moment. What could I have done differently? Why didn’t I do this or that? But you know what I did?”

He shakes his head.

You suck in a quick breath for courage before breathing it out. “You can’t stop, Matt. You just can’t. You have to keep fighting for them.”

He looks away. When he finally meets your eyes again, they resumed that light that you knew so well but a part of the sadness that runs through him still remains.

“You’re a lot stronger than me, (L/N). You’re never afraid to fight back,” he starts, “But I’m getting too old now. I think it might be time to...slow down and start to accept it. Everyone else has...” 

The automatic front door squeaks loudly as it slides open, drawing both yours and Matt's attention. In walks one of your fellow crew members. He lowers his phone to his side as his gaze shifts wildly about the lobby until it lands on you. He didn’t look pleased one bit. He urgently waves for you to come over.

Your pulse begins to beat quicker and you carefully turn back to Matt. “Hey um...I'm sorry but it looks like my ride’s here. I better get going.”

But you don’t move to leave. You didn't want to go! You wanted to stay here, with Matt and just- just forget everything happening! But by the way Jeremy was about to storm towards you with complete anger plain on his face, you knew you didn’t have a choice. And so you stand to your feet, refusing to acknowledge Matt’s surprised expression as he glances between you and Jeremy. You offer him one last smile. 

“See you around?”

He nods curtly, lowering his voice to that husky tone that sends goosebumps up your arms. “Call me if you ever get into trouble, okay? I’m serious. You still remember my number?”

You feel your chest flutter at those words and nod. Then you break your gaze with him and head towards Jeremy. 

He waits by the door, impatiently tapping his foot. His muscular arms are crossed and his eyebrows are narrowed to the extreme. He doesn’t greet you or scold you once you’re in front of him. Instead, he takes you by the upper arm and drags you out of sight of the other patrons in the lobby. You suck in a surprised whimper as you struggle to keep up with his pace as he brings you around the hospital to the back parking lot. There, he marches you over to a unmarked car and pushes you inside. A few moments later he gets into the driver's seat and slams the door shut. 

You didn’t even have time to buckle in your seatbelt before Jeremy hits the gas. The tires squeal at the same time you do and you quickly lock yourself in tight. Jeremy peels out of the parking lot and onto the road, narrowly missing two oncoming cars. You eye him over in shock.

“What’s the hell is your deal, man? Are you trying to get us killed?!”

“Your phone.” Is all he says.

“What?”

“Give me your fucking phone, (F/N)!” His shout is full of raw fury and his eyes matched the intensity. You gape, slowly pulling out your phone from your pocket. 

“What, why? I haven’t done anything-”

“Just give it to me!”

You hand it over, arm quickly retracting as he takes the phone from your fingers. He takes his eyes off the road and begins scrolling through your contacts, your messages, even your gallery. You watch in mute shock as he curses under his breath and tosses your phone in the cupholder. 

“What was he doing there?” Jeremy demands, voice full of cold suspicion. You quickly take offence and glower at him. So this is what his hostility was about, huh?

“Who?” You vex angrily.

“You know exactly who I’m talking about. Matt Hullum, Chief of the La Mesa PD. Your boss.”

“He’s my ex-boss actually,” You correct, adding with the same hard voice he was giving you, “And I didn’t invite him out to see me if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Maybe not,” Jeremy presses as he takes a corner rather sharply, “I’m just curious to know what set of circumstances led to the two of you being in the same place at the same time.”

You throw your hands up, “He hurt himself this morning and wanted treatment! I just happened to be there too for my injury.”

He laughs coldly. “I’m sure.”

“I’m telling you the truth!”

Jeremy merely shakes his head, eliciting a small ball of anger to form in your gut. You grip the seat below you with clawed fingers. “I don’t know what to tell you then! If you want someone to blame, blame Geoff! I bet he was the one who wanted me to get this stab-thing fixed anyway.”

Your crew member finally lowers his voice but it’s still just as bitter. “What exactly were you two talking about?"

You bite your lip. There's no way you could tell him about Matt's family. For all you knew, maybe they had been involved or knew who was. Or maybe they would try to use it to their advantage for something. You couldn't let that happen. And so you turn your body away from him so you could stare out the window. 

"(F/N)! Hey-Look at me when I'm talking to you!"

"I didn't tell him about you guys if that's what you're worried about." You hiss.

"I'm not worried. I'm angry. You knew from day one that talking to people outside of our circle was against the rules and now you strictly disobeyed that-!"

"What?!" You cry, spinning around to face him! "That's not fair! We weren’t doing that! Look, I’m sorry okay? I didn’t know! You already let me talk to Lindsay so I guess I figured-”

"Just because I let you talk to her doesn’t mean you can go meet up with your old cop-buddies for tea time! That was different!” 

You open your mouth to shout back but the warning look he sends you causes the words to die in your throat. You can feel yourself trembling and cross your arms in an attempt to try and not shake so bad, sinking into the car seat with a pout. It was no use. He refused to believe you. Or even let you try to explain. Block after block passes outside the window before you finally sigh. 

“I’m sorry, Jeremy. I wasn’t trying to break the rules. It’s all just a coincidence,” You say quietly. “I understand if you need to tell the others but just please...don’t hurt him.”

Jeremy mutters something beside you but doesn’t speak up loud enough for you to have heard what he said. You grow worried. Would this mean Matt was in more danger now? Would the crew want him eliminated or do some sick trick on him like they did for you? Your chest tightens and you begin to find it hard to breathe. 

They can’t hurt him. You would never forgive yourself if he got hurt on your expense.

“It wasn’t just Geoff who was worried about you, ya know?” Jeremy suddenly snaps. 

You flinch, eyes flashing over to him in surprise. The lad catches his mistake and you see his face tint a few shades as he stumbled to explain his outburst. 

“W-what I mean is that you have no use to us if you’re hurt!” He stutters, ”How are you going to complete your side of the missions if you can’t even move your whole arm?! How do you expect to be able to drive cars, climb up ladders, and survive a shootout with a bandaged up shoulder!” 

Your eyes narrow a fraction in confusion, “But... I thought you guys only needed me for intel?”

Jeremy goes completely quiet. A new type of silence fills the void of the old one and the uneasiness of an unanswered question hangs in the air. But you refuse to ask it aloud. You didn’t want to explore that question in any capacity right now. There was no point.

You turn back to look out the window.

A light afternoon rain is making its way through the city. Droplets pittered down on the windshield and you watch as pedestrians out on the sidewalk begin to duck for some kind of brief cover from the cold shower. You begin to wonder if maybe walking back to your apartment would be a better option right now. A little bit of rain vs a tension so thick a bullet probably couldn’t pierce it? You were ready to place your bets when the sight of the penthouse comes into view. The towering building startles you. 

“We aren’t going back to my place?”

Jeremy doesn’t bother to look at you as he replies with a shake of his head, “Geoff wanted to talk to you after you got your stitches.”

“Talk about what?”

The question only seems to make him more uncomfortable. Finally he mutters out, “We’re moving to phase two.”

Oh...Your teeth scrape the edge of your lips nervously. They were already ready to move on so soon after the last heist? You still weren’t even sure what they stole from the warehouse with the bikers. 

The bikers…

You send a quick glance down at your phone in the cup holder. You remembered that Ryan had given it back sometime last night after one of his many chases. He handed it back explaining how he added a new contact in your list. Calling the number would send the call straight to the penthouse should anything happen. He adds that it should be used for emergencies. And for crew purposes only. 

Although the delivery was slightly vague, you got the message clearly. 

But even with the phone back in your possession, the images the mysterious person had sent you were still there. Begging for your attention. They hadn’t tried to send another message, which was good, but at the same time it made you a little anxious. Would they try to scare you again? Would they try to keep messaging you?

Unfortunately for you, you were about to find out.


	18. The One Way Ticket

You couldn’t stand it anymore. You sit up from the couch and switch off the tv, rubbing your eyes in an attempt to shake away the burning blue light from your vision. It was bad enough you had stared at the screen for well over two hours but now that it was off, you weren’t sure what the next plan of entertainment was. 

A sigh escapes your lips. When Jeremy and you had arrived earlier, you expected Geoff to already be waiting, ready to talk about phase two of the heist. However, once you got here the crime boss was nowhere to be seen, tucked somewhere in the office with his right hand woman discussing God knows what. 

Jeremy himself had disappeared, having abandoned you to go work on something elsewhere. It didn’t bother you though to be honest. After his snappy attitude earlier, you were fine not having to spend time in the same room together. In a way you kinda wished you were back in the hospital. At least there you had someone normal to talk to.

Matt... 

Your stomach flutters as your mind attempts to relive the same excitement and giddiness you felt not so long ago. Being with him again and getting to catch up... It was like when you saw Lindsay. Or spoke with Rusty before he went dark. It was the excitement of knowing people, somewhere out there, were there for you. They may not know your situation, but they were on your side. 

_“Call me if you ever get into trouble, okay? I’m serious.”_

Matt’s words were both reassuring and puzzling. It was nice to think he was offering to comfort you but then again...why had he suddenly gotten so serious when he saw Jeremy...

“What’s got you in such a good mood?”

You tense, quickly returning to reality and glance over your shoulder, “Huh?”

Michael puts down a pair of pliers on the dining room table. “I mean you’re over there fucking glowing and smiling and shit. What happened?”

You feel another smile creep onto your face. With a sigh, you attempt to hide it by raising a hand to your lips. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Whatever,” he groans, “I don’t fucking care anyway.”

He returns to whatever he was working on at the table. Beside him, Gavin catches your eye with a wave. He flashes a grin and beckons you over. 

“Check it out, (F/N),” He cheerfully calls as you stand and cross the room to them, “Michael and I are doing demolition for the next heist!”

Michael gives his friend a playful glare, “You’re not supposed to tell her yet, idiot. Geoff still hasn’t made any final decisions.”

You grip the chair in front of you with both hands as you eye over the tangled wires attached to a small rectangle in Michael’s hand. 

Your breath leaves you. “Is that a-?”

“Proximity mine?” Michael grins, “You better believe it.”

_Jesus Christ!_

“I-I see.” You swallow uneasily. Gavin shrugs his shoulders.

“Don’t worry, it’s not live,” he says, adding, “We still have to add a few more things before it’s even connected online.”

You wisely decide to watch in silence as they continue to tinker with the object, strapping a bit of tape and some nails to the outside. The second-hand nature the two boys share as they prepare the explosive only made you grow more unnerved. It was almost too easy for them. Then the realization hits you. Why were they preparing a proximity mine? Where were they planning on using this?

“Oh, I almost forgot to ask, how did the hospital visit go?” Gavin points to your shoulder, “I heard the wound was pretty bad. I can’t believe that prick got us as good as he did.”

You gently grip your shoulder with your hand and offer a small smile. “Yeah, it still hurts a bit but the doc got me all patched up. I should be back in no time.”

“Good,” Michael pipes up, “Because we’re actually going to need you for this next one.”

“Oh! Maybe you’ll even be on our team this time!” Gavin gushes, only to earn a dismissive slap on the side. 

“Hey man, don’t go replacing me so quickly.” Michael mutters as he hands the boy his half of the explosive. He then locks eyes with you. “You may have gained Geoff's trust but don’t let that shit go to your head. You’re still on the bottom of the pyramid.”

“I’m fine with that, don’t worry.” You assure him as you take a few steps back from the table, “I don’t have any plans on moving further up than I already am.”

“Well that’s a shame,” a familiar voice mutters from behind you, “And here I thought you were becoming a nice addition to the crew.”

You jump, whirling around to find the one and only Geoffrey Ramsey. You hadn’t even heard the office door open...

Geoff's eyes drift down your body, a hint of confusion making its way to his features. He looks back up to your face, “I uh, I like the outfit.”

You flush red and cross your arms over your tuxedo shirt, as if that would somehow hide it. From behind you, Michael calls out a thank you.

Geoff raises an eyebrow but you wave it off. Now wasn’t the time…

You remember what Jeremy had said earlier and tilt your head at your boss. “I heard there was something you needed to discuss with me?”

“Not yet,” Geoff glances back at Jack who was making her way over to the group. “We want to get everyone together first. There’s a small snag in the plan.”

“Oh man,” Gavin moans from behind you, “Don’t tell me that I’m back on hacking again.”

“Please," Michael quips, "We all know that if we needed someone to do hacking, it’d be Ryan. Dude knows computers better than he knows the anatomy of a woman.”

“Speaking of, where is Ryan?” you ask, “I haven't seen him since this morning.”

“He’s downstairs with Jeremy,” Jack answers once she's in the circle. She studies you curiously from under her auburn bangs. For a second she looks like she wants to ask you something but then instead she suddenly shakes her head. She smiles.

“(F/N), do you know the bistro down by Vespucci beach? The one with the yellow and blue curtains?”

“Um, I think so? The one by the pier right?”

She nods, reaching out and handing you a slip of paper, keys, and a shark card. 

“Here, take these and bring us back lunch. It's a little ways out so I’m giving you my bike for the time being. You do know how to ride one right?”

“My older brother taught me how to ride a dirt bike not too long ago...” You answer, then you blink in surprise. Wait a second. Had you heard her right? “Wait, you mean you want me to go? Alone?”

“Do you think you need a chaperone or something?”

“N-no! No I can do it!” You happily cry, starting to make your way to the front door. 

“The bike is right outside the apartment. You can’t miss it.”

“Got it! I’ll be right back!” You call, opening the front door and jumping through. It swings shut behind you.

A long silence stretches throughout the penthouse as the four crew members watch you go. Geoff sends a knowing glance at Jack. She waves him off and turns to the two men at the table. Michael tilts his head and speaks, prompting the others to look over at him.

“What was that about? You know we can just order delivery from there? How do you know she’s not going to just run off?”

The smile falls from Jack's lips. “I doubt she’s that stupid. Besides,” she moves to the kitchen counter, helping herself to a glass of wine, “All of our vehicles have trackers on them. The bike is no exception. If anything happens, we’ll know exactly where she is and just send the boys after her.”

“That kinda sounds like a waste of time. And a risky move...” Gavin trails off.

“Food is food.” Geoff chimes in. “And on an important note, this will give time for the four of us to have a serious talk. Something's come up. If she asks, this was merely a trust exercise.”

All eyes return to the front door once more. 

***

You stare down the hallway, pausing to try and catch your mind up to speed. This...this was new. The crew were actually wanting you to go off alone? 

Maybe you were starting to get on their good side again...

You make your way toward the elevator, passing through the long empty hallway. You take your time, soaking in this strange freedom of being alone. Your eyes drift across the bare, plainly colored walls of the walkway and the slightly soiled appearance of the carpet floor. In true penthouse fashion, there were no other doors on this hallway though you weren't sure there were any other doors in the building to be honest. It wasn't like your apartment where you occasionally saw someone walking to their door or to the elevator- no. This place was dead. It made you curious to know if there actually were other people living in this building.

Once at the familiar silver doors, you press the button to hail the elevator. The carrier hums as it makes its way up to you and you bounce on your heels with your hands clasped behind your back patiently. After a moment, a loud ding rings out and the doors slide open. 

Empty. 

You step inside and turn toward the column of buttons indicating the various levels of the apartment building. 

Strangely, your hand doesn't hesitate before pressing the first floor option. It was an automatic reaction. Looking back, you might've been able to simply taken off and called for help but...

The doors close and you squeeze yourself into the corner of the car. The elevator wastes no time in dropping you to the ground floor. You grip onto the bar on the wall as you wait, closing your eyes and forcing yourself to relax. _Come on (F/N), you've done this a million times by now._

But it doesn't make your fear get any easier to deal with. You and heights never mixed well. And you doubted the two of you ever would.

By the time the doors slide open, you were more than ready to get out. You squeeze through the space and skip out the doors and onto the street. You spot a shiny LCC Avarus waiting on the curb.

You grin.

Sure a dirtbike and a motorcycle weren’t the same but...How hard could it be?

***

“I’m back!” You call into the penthouse, panting. You shuffle your way through the door, the bags hanging around your arms swaying with even the slightest movement. Footsteps approach and you stretch your neck to look around the pile of other small boxes in your hands. Who knew the crew actually wanted for you to buy the entire fucking shop?

The weight in your hands is removed and you begin to thank whoever it was when you meet his eyes. 

They burn furiously

“Where the hell have you been?”

You blink wildly at him, too stunned to respond. Jeremy growls, turning away and putting the boxes down on the kitchen counter. When he turns back to you, he seems to have calmed down but only minimally. He places his hands on his hips. 

“I leave you alone for a little bit to go work on something and you already run off to go...What? Go shopping?”

You stand there, dumbfounded. “I...I went to get everyone lunch?”

“Under whose permission?” 

“Jack’s!” 

It doesn't surprise you that he was still upset considering what happened earlier but that didn't mean you wanted to get into another argument with him! Trying to carry all these bags and boxes from the motorcycle to the penthouse already put you in a mood as it was.

“Well next time let me know! I was looking for you. Who knows what kind of trouble you were getting into.”

“Whoa, seriously?” You counter, voice aghast, “I didn't even do anything wrong!”

“ _Nothing wrong-_?” He hisses before a figure pops into view.

“Relax, you two. Jeremy, she’s fine.” Jack tuts, appearing from the side and taking the remaining bags from your arms. “She had my permission to go.”

Jeremy's expression becomes alarmed. "What? You seriously let her out by herself? Now of all times?"

"Didn't you tell me the other day you thought she could fend for herself?" Jack asks him with a raised eyebrow. She then turns to you, ignoring how the shorter man tints slightly red. “Thank you for getting the food, (F/N).”

“Not a problem." You carefully tell her, hesitantly walking around Jeremy and following her into the kitchen. "I actually kinda enjoyed it.”

Over by the fireplace, Geoff looks up from his phone and stands to his feet. He joins you at the kitchen counter. 

“I see you made it back. Everything went well, I assume?”

You nod. “I mean it would've been nice to know there was a compartment under the seat for storage ahead of time but I figured it out eventually.”

“Good. You’re doing well to prove your loyalty to us.”

“That’s what you think...” a voice mutters.

The three of you turn back to look at Jeremy. He stood there alone, grimacing. His eyes remain on Geoff.

“What was that?” The kingpin demands.

“I found her today with Matt Hullum at the hospital. They were sitting together and talking.”

In an instant, all attention returns to you. You hold your hands up. This was not the kind of spotlight you wanted to be in right now. 

“We didn’t do anything-” You defend, “We just happened to run into each other in the waiting room. It wasn't even for that long. I promise I didn’t tell him about any of you or about us.”

A pause. Then,

“It would’ve been nice to know about this encounter ahead of time.” Geoff scolds, surprising you when his accusing gaze lands on Jeremy.

The man flinches, a look of regret crossing over his features. His plan to get you in trouble had backfired.

“Y-yeah I was going to but-” He stammers.

Geoff waves him off. “Let’s just eat. The food is going to be cold by the time this is over.”

Jack and Geoff leave to move into the dining room with the remaining crew members, leaving only you and Jeremy standing alone in the kitchen. You turn to him, feeling your chest drop. Was he actually trying to get the crew to side against you?

"Did I do something to you?" You ask him quietly, "Did I do something to break your trust?"

His gaze lowers to the floor. The white cowboy hat on his head tipped down and without a word, he sulks away to the others. You watch after him. Anger but also disappointment fills your body. You didn't understand it. Why was he so mad at you today? What had you done to make him so on edge, not just about your whereabouts but about who you were talking to and when?

"(F/N), come get lunch!" Someone calls from the dining room. 

"I uh...I'll pass." You call back, voice dropping as you add, "I lost my appetite anyway."

With no objections, you walk back to the couch and flop down. There's shouting and laughing. You glance behind you to see the crew grabbing containers and arguing over whose food was who's. They didn't seem to notice you weren't with them. Turning back around, you click the remote and lay down, propping your feet up on the cushions beside you and leaning against a throw pillow. The tv plays quietly in the background.

After a while, you finally give in and let your eyes shut. The outer noise from the men in the apartment faded away until it becomes nothing more than white noise. Your breathing slows and you drift off into a deep sleep.

***

_“And here I thought you said you would never ride a bike again in your life.”_

_You whirl around, “Nick?”_

_Nick flicks the throttle of Jack’s LCC Avarus. He makes a face as he hears the engine roar to life. After he does this a few more times, he finally looks up to meet your eyes. He grins._

_“Hey, sis."_

_He stands from the bike and takes a few steps forward. He gestures around your apartment living room. “This is a seriously nice place, man.” He pauses, “You didn’t sleep with that guy to get it right? I can’t have anyone at work finding out my younger sister slept with her boss.”_

_He lets out a bellowing laugh._

_Tears prick your eyes. Impossible..._

_“N-Nick? What are you doing here? H-how are you-?”_

_“Ehh, don’t worry about it. I have my ways.” He crosses the room and opens his arms wide. “Come give me a hug.”_

_But you don’t move. You’re frozen. It was as if you were witnessing a dead man walking. Which in a sense, you were._

_Nick notices your still form and sighs, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “Oh come on, don’t give me that. You’re not still in your moody teen phase are you?”_

_Nothing._

_“I mean...I suppose I should’ve called ahead…”_

_“Nick...You can’t be here…”_

_His face twists into confusion. “What do you mean? I’m not doing anything wrong am I?”_

_“N-no...it’s just-”_

_“Ohhh I see.” He dips his head and nods. “I understand.”_

_There's a long pause. A breeze blows throughout the empty black room and you catch the faintest whiff of his old cologne enter your nostrils._

_“Aren’t you happy to see me?”_

_Without waiting for an answer, he’s suddenly standing in front of you. He closes his arms around your shoulders, reaching up and pulling your head into his chest. His body seems to swallow you whole._

_Your breathing hitches. He felt just like he used to..._

_“Nick…” You finally collapse into his arms, pressing your face into his muscular chest. You start to cry. "Nick- Nick I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry!”_

_“Sorry?” His voice, though quiet, had an ominous quality, “What have you got to be sorry for?”_

_“I-I-” You’re not even able to finish your sentence before you fall to the ground, bringing him down with you. You bury your head in his chest and throw your arms around his neck. _He was here_!_

_“Oh come now, sis. Stop crying,” he comforts, “Mom will come up and won’t stop fussing over you for the rest of the night.”_

_This coaxes a small, sob-filled laugh. You let the tears fall and he whispers to you, not appearing to care that you were getting his uniform wet._

_Wait…_

_His uniform?_

_“Besides, it’s not like you abandoned me and left me on that roof to die, right?”_

_You freeze, the sob turning into a hiccup in your throat. A cold chill runs up your spine. You slowly turn your head to look up at him. He’s watching you, face pulled into an eerily calm expression._

_“It’s not like you stood there and watched me take three shots to the chest.” He continues, smiling through the words, “That would be insanity.”_

_You’re shaking and his grip on you doesn’t loosen. It only gets tighter. Was the air getting hotter?_

_“...Why did you want me to die, (F/N)?”_

_“What? N-no I didn’t- I didn’t leave you!”_

_“You let him kill me. What kind of sister are you?”_

_It’s then that he suddenly becomes angry. He sits very still, his eyes narrowing. You watch in horror as his mouth takes an unpleasant twist. “And now you’re working with the same monsters that did this to me?”_

_He points down at his chest. You don’t want to look but an unseen force makes you. Three holes appear in his torso, a dark red liquid beginning to fill them, leaking out quickly and soiling his uniform. The liquid runs down, pooling at his knees._

_“You let them kill me…” He whispers._

_You bring your eyes back to his. And you scream._

_His skull grins back at you. His arm lashes out and grabs your throat! You begin to choke, coughing and sputtering and gripping at his hand! The air is burning hot and you clawing at the darkness with desperate fury! You couldn’t breathe!_

_“N-Nick! No! Please!”_

_“You left me…” He whispers. “You left me to die, (F/N).”_

_You squint your eyes shut._

_“(F/N).”_

_“(F/N)!”_

***

“(F/N), wake up!”

You jolt awake, throwing something off your head, “STOP IT!”

Your heart practically leaps out of your chest when you see Nick's skull peering down at you! The grey teeth smile at you manically! You let out a loud scream and attempt to throw a punch but the skull catches it in a flash! His hand grabs your wrist hard and twists it out of the way! You let out a pained howl and they drop it in an instant. The figure quickly bends down and places a hand by your mouth, a signal for you to stop shouting. Then it reaches up and removes the mask, letting it fall to his side. You tuck your hand into your chest and stare up at him, breathing weakly.

Blue eyes. 

Not Nick's eyes.

You take a gulping breath. Ryan simply looks back at you, expression wavering into concern. You’re breathing hard and your body is trembling furiously. Neither of you say a word. You move your gaze to the side, noticing a tangled blanket lying over your body. You raise a shaky hand to your throat. 

_Just a nightmare_ , you realize, _only a nightmare_.

“I...H-how long have I been asleep?” You ask quietly, lowering your eyes to the floor. A hot tear rolls down your cheek and you quickly reach up to wipe it away. 

Ryan blinks awkwardly, looking away. Judging from his body posture, you had startled him quite a bit. 

“A few hours,” he replies hesitantly, “I was grabbing you to take you home. The others already turned in for the night.”

You look around to find that he was right. The lights are dimmed and the penthouse sat empty. You spot the dirty dishes laying all over the kitchen counter and dining room table. Your gaze moves to the window. Dark. The sun had already set. You slowly move to sit up.

“Okay. Just...give me a second.”

You're thankful you don't have to tell him twice. He moves away, “I'll grab my keys.”

He leaves the room.

You try to calm your breathing. It was just a nightmare. Nick was okay. He was fine. A gnawing feeling of dread appears. He _was_ okay right?

A small device of the glass table in front of you catches your eye. You reach over and pick it up. Your phone! Jeremy must have left it earlier. You glance back to where Ryan had disappeared. Maybe you should shoot a quick text to your parents...just to check on him...The others wouldn't mind right? They'd understand?

It'ss not like you get the chance to find out anyway. Because the moment you pick up your phone, it vibrates to alert you to a new message. You click the screen. 

And your breath gets caught in your throat.

It was a picture of your apartment. More specifically, it was from _inside_ your apartment. 

In the picture, a man you don't recognize is standing in your office, holding up one of the fakes folders next to his face. But with how the camera is positioned, you can only see his twisted smile. In text below it reads, 

_I got tired of waiting for your reply so I came to see you in person. Unfortunately you weren't here. So to make up for it I'll be taking these pretty confidential looking folders. You want them back? Meet me alone and we'll discuss the crew._

Beneath are a list of coordinates.

No...No this has gone on long enough! This is too far! Your conscience screams at you but your mind is already made up. If everyone was going to call you strong enough to fight for yourself, you were going to damn well do it. 

_It was time to finish this once and for all._

“Come on,” You hear Ryan grumble somewhere over your shoulder, “It's time to get you home.”

_You were going to handle this fucking motorcycle crew yourself._

“Actually…” You mutter as you turn to look back at him, “Could I stay with you tonight?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a Thanksgiving Break Miracle! I actually updated! Hahaha
> 
> But on a more serious note, I'm so sorry this is so late! That is completely on me! Thank you everyone for continuing all your kudos and comments and all your support! You have no idea how much it makes my day. 
> 
> This chapter is kinda a huge context dump so I apologize for that. I rewrote it about seven times...BUT. I promise the next chapter is going to be a lot more interesting. Reader here is gonna go fight her some baddies!!! Also, why is Jeremy suddenly so angry? Who knows? I do. He's a cutie. He has his reasons.


	19. The Man In Leather

After a thirty-minute drive you finally arrive at the coordinates mentioned in the text. You blink, loosening the throttle of Jack’s bike and flipping up your visor on the helmet you wore. The coordinates lead to...a ranch house?

You double check the GPS on your phone. Yep...this was the place. 

You silently climb off the bike, shifting into neutral and cutting the engine as you walk it forward along the dirt pathway. The driveway is long and it takes a decent amount of energy pushing the bike up the slight incline of land. 

About halfway to the ranch house, you carefully stow the bike in a couple of bushes along with the helmet. You take a few steps back to look at it. Hmm. It may not be the best hiding spot, but it would do for now.

You can’t help but let out a nervous breath, glancing around as you try to take in what you were doing. This was the first stake out you’ve been on- a real one- in a long time. Not since Mica was a patrol officer. You feel around the waistband of your pants. The familiar piece of metal greets your hand comfortingly. With your heart hammering in both your chest and ears, you start forward up the driveway. 

Ultimately, you try not to let your paranoia get to you. You were just going to take a look around, see what this motorcycle crew was after and if possible, observe them. If something happened? Well, you could take care of yourself. You didn’t survive this long in Los Santos from total luck.

As you near the house, you begin to notice some...unusual things. Everything is bleak: dusty wood, broken windows, and scattered gasoline barrels rested unused leading up to the unlit home. Empty pissweisser bottles and cigarette cartons litter the ground. 

It’s silent. No vehicles, no people, nothing. Everything is just...eerily quiet. The dark exterior of the house matches what little you could see through the curtained off windows. The only light source came from a street light from the beginning of the driveway. Other than that, it was simply you and the night- 

Your ears prick up at what sounds like footsteps coming from the side of the house. You direct your vision to where you think the sound is coming from, spotting a shadowy figure start to slink off-

“(F/N).”

You whirl around! 

Chest panting, you wildly scan the surrounding darkness for the owner of the voice. No...You suck in a small breath, shaking your head. _Idiot_...You were just hearing things. Your nerves were making you jumpy, that’s all. But as much as you try not to think of the obvious, your mind can’t help but wander back to the crew. 

After Ryan had brought you to his apartment, which apparently only sat a few floors down from the penthouse, you faked asleep on his couch until he disappeared into his room. Then you made your move. You snuck into his version of a heist room, took a gun and some ammunition from the unlocked armory locker, and hurried down to the garage where you had parked jacks bike a few hours earlier.

You didn’t think you had made any noise but a pang of doubt seeps into your chest. Had he noticed you were gone? Were the crew already looking for you?

You frown. If you were already hearing his disembodied voice, that was probably not a good sign. You needed to do what you came here for and get back before it was too late.

Moving to your feet and slowly crossing down the hill, you pull out the small combat pistol and flick off the safety. As you cautiously approach the spot where the shadow had disappeared, you pick up the sound of voices. They were coming from somewhere behind the house. 

Okay. The Mission? Investigate where the shadow went and find whoever was speaking. Simple.

But you bite your lip. Why did something feel so off? 

Glancing behind you, you slowly round the corner and make your way along the side of the house. The voices are growing louder and you pause. Two males, it sounds like. You needed to be on guard. 

You will your police instincts to kick in and rub your finger on the barrel of the gun to ease some of the tension. Slowly, you make it to the edge of the house and peer your head around the corner. 

You jump, quickly flattening your back against the wall of the house! Your heart leaps to your throat and you swallow down a gasp.

The men continue their conversation.

After a few seconds you finally force yourself to relax. They hadn’t seen you. 

Using the darkness of the shadows to your advantage, you take another peak.

A large, two-story barn house stood out among the various farming machinery around it. Flecks of golden light seep out from a few lights along the building, illuminating the two well-armed men below. You quickly note their appearances. 

They looked to be in their late teens to mid twenties respectively. Both wore the same heavy leather jackets you had seen in both the bar and the first heist and their expressions said alert but bored. Your eyes drift down to their weapons. They each held a rifle, the first with it in his hands while the other had it lazily slung over his shoulders. 

The men speak quietly to one another and their voices seem to shatter the illusion of the dark, empty night around them. It’s impossible to make out what they’re saying but you soon hear a laugh from one of them. 

Interesting. You reach down and pull out your phone with your free hand. You quickly swipe for the camera feature and raise your phone so that the men are in frame. But just as you go to take a picture, one of the men suddenly stiffen. 

“Did you hear something?” He asks the other, who glances over at him.

“No? Did you?”

You freeze.

The first male takes a few steps away from the building towards your direction. He raises the rifle as his gaze sweeps around. 

You hold your breath, afraid to even move a muscle in case they somehow heard you! Footsteps start towards your hiding spot, growing closer and closer until his shadow is about to touch you!

“Who’s there!”

Your finger brushes the trigger-!

“Mac, wait. Get back here.” The other male calls, “Boss wants us inside. Now.”

There’s a silence and you watch the shadow glance in your exact hiding spot. Then it moves. And you hear the footsteps retreat back to the barn house. 

You let out a soft breath you had no idea how long you had been holding. Summoning up courage, you glance back around the side of the house, spotting the two figures disappear into the building.

It’s time to go.

You start to leave when your feet suddenly refuse to move. The weight of your phone pulls at your hand and you sigh.

You couldn’t leave without a picture. It would be better for researching when you got back to the penthouse. You needed to follow them.

Without pausing to give another thought, you peak back around the corner before making your move. You jog across the open space and put your side next to the ajar barn door. You hesitate outside, listening. No sounds coming from inside. You slowly peak through the crack to see whatever lay behind the door. 

Blackness. 

You take a step closer, trying to get a glimpse but to no avail. It was too dark. Warnings echo in the back of your mind but you tune them out. Just a quick look, you promise yourself.

Not seeing any other choice, you quietly nudge the door gently open with your shoulder and ease your way inside. The door creaks softly the more you stretch it and the eerily large moon spills its water-like light across the cement floor of the building. Once fully inside, you take in a small breath and ready your gun. You move forward.

It’s barely lit and you have to squint to make anything out. As your eyes adjust, you quickly realize that the inside didn’t seem much better than the outside. You wander further in, spotting dried hay scattered all over the ground. More wooden boxes with the label “DR” rest on the floor. The overwhelming scent of weed enters your nostrils and you struggle not to gag. 

_Keep it together, (F/N)._

You continue slowly around the boxes into the main room.

All you need is a few pictures. Just a few and then you can get out of here. 

With a brief look around the massive main room, you quickly bend down to one of the boxes and take a closer look at the markings.

“Dawn Raiders?” You read, tilting your head a bit. You lean back to examine the large box. It was like all the others, almost your height and wide enough to store a lot of possible things. From previous raids you had done on illegal firm buildings, you guessed whatever was inside was likely contraband about to be shipped out. You take a closer look at the label, reading off the receiving address-

A confused breath escapes your lips as you recognize the recipient. You glance around before pulling out your phone and taking a quick picture of the label. You stand to your feet, now moving further in and snapping a few more pictures of the other packages in the room.

It was as if all these boxes had been hastily moved to the edges of the room to allow a wide-open area in the center, spare the empty stables and abandoned work stations-

You swallow. 

Wait...empty? 

Where had those two guys gone?

_FUCK!_

All voices and instincts tell you to run! Get out of here as fast as you can! NOW!

You whirl around, ready to take off when the heavy metal aligns against your forehead without warning! Your eyes go wide but there’s no time to react! You’re struck. Hard.

Your body collapses to the floor! The gun goes flying from your grip and scatters across the ground loudly! You let out an involuntary yelp, gripping the pulsating area by your temple with both hands! 

“Surrender! Now!” Someone shouts!

“Fine! Fine!” You cry, holding up your hands and flashing up to look at your attacker.

A man with a sick snarl resting on his face meets your gaze with burning hatred. He had very short, shaved brown hair. A tattoo of a cross made up of tire marks stretched across his left cheek and forehead. The words “Ride and Die” peeked out from under his leather jacket on his neck.

You might have gotten to see more but it was hard to focus on something other than the gleaming metal of the carbine rifle pointing down at you.

Movement from the corner of your eyes catches your attention and you look over, spotting a few other motorcycle crew members stand from behind the shadows of the stalls. You begin to breathe heavily.

**Shit.**

Your gun is picked up by a female member who quickly pockets it in her holster, drawing her own pistol in the meantime. Soon you’re surrounded by six or seven other people. You eye the man still aimed at you fearfully. You were overwhelmed, outnumbered, and clearly outgunned.

“What do you want?” You ask.

The man flicks his attention to the others who silently nod. Two step forward, flanking you on the sides, before picking you up. They drag you to the center of the floor, positioned towards a pair of doors towards the back of the barn. The drop you harshly on the ground, leaving you to sit up on your own. 

Somebody cocks their gun. You can feel eyes in every direction.

“Put yer hands on yer head.” The man grunts, his southern accent poking through, and you comply, not trying to move too slow but trying not to make any sudden movement either. You were surely being held at gunpoint. The last thing you wanted to do was move in a way they didn’t like...

The only thing you could do now was mentally curse at yourself for not getting out of here sooner. 

Footsteps appear from your side and you force yourself to stay still as a pair of hands wander over your figure searching for other weapons. 

After they find nothing, the footsteps retreat and the room goes silent. Nobody moved. Nobody spoke. Though, from the hairs on the back of your neck and that uneasy feeling of your stomach tightening, you knew the man behind you was still holding his aim on your form.

 _What was going to happen? What are they waiting for_? You bite the inside of your cheek anxiously. Was this the leader of the motorcycle crew?

“We gonna’ skin you alive for what you done.” The man growls suddenly, voice thick with malice. 

You wanted to tell him you’ve heard better from worse criminals or that you were getting bored from waiting but instead you remain quiet. You didn’t know a thing about this place; where people could be hiding, what the plan for tonight was, or how long it would take emergency teams to arrive if things took a turn. This was bad.

The loud clank of a door opening and the shrill squeak of metal hinges broke through the air. You snap your attention up to the doors before you. Your eyebrows furrow uneasily as you scan over the two forms entering the room.

The first had a powerful well-muscled body. His shoulders are wide, accentuated by the thick jacket he wore. He’s dark brown hair covers some of the faint tattoos you spot plastered over the top of his forehead. His curly hair almost touches his hawk-like eyes. He walks with purpose and towers over the man behind him by a good foot. 

The other male was still rather tall, a good few inches above you, but not as tall as the first. His features had a suspicious lack of tattoos compared to the others. His movements are swift, full of grace and confidence. He was not as muscular as the first either but the commanding air around him told that he was not a force to be messed with. 

This must be him...

He comes to stop about halfway between you and the door he had just come from. He gazes down at you. His dark eyes hold a secretive look behind his expression and he smiles as he openly studies you.

“Lenox Mason.” He states simply, as if it were supposed to mean something. “But I doubt that will matter to you in a few minutes. Stand up.”

You do as he says, moving slow and keeping your hands on your head like you had been instructed to. You inwardly curse. It was a setup. You knew that from the moment you came in. How could you have been so stupid! You should’ve known better than to come here. And alone for Pete’s sake.

“Good, good. Glad to see this one doesn’t fight. I do enjoy having my victims accept their fate.”

“What do you want?”

Lenox snaps his fingers and other bike members move their fingers to the trigger. It was almost disgustingly in sync. 

He smiles at you. “Funny that you ask....”

“If you’re going to kill me, I just want to tell you that there’s no point. I’m not with the crew.”

“No?” Lenox purses his lips, “So it wasn’t you who attended the massacre on my base? It wasn’t you who called my brother and faked the attack happening at your home? That wasn’t you who shot and killed my men?”

If it hadn’t already, the rest of the color had drained from your body. You were starting to shake and there wasn’t any way of stopping it.

The man behind Lenox passes him a glance before focusing back on you. Lenox takes a step forward, a mockful pitying look on his face.

“Why then, please accept my apologies. I must have confused you with the other cop the crew recruited. What was her name again…?”

“Please...Don’t-”

“You know, you’re right. I think I’ve given you plenty of time to suffer for all the harm you’ve done to me and my crew. Go ahead, get out of here,” he waves you off, “Just don’t tell anyone we were here, okay?”

You don’t move.

Lenox raises his eyebrows. “No? You don’t want to go? You really _do_ want to repay me for all the pain you’ve caused?” 

His lips twist into a menacing sneer. “Perfect.”

“Now,” he continues as if nothing happened, “About the truck you and your gang stole from me-”

“Huh?”

He shakes his head. “Listen, sweetheart. I think it would be in your best interest that you didn’t interrupt me. To be frank, I don’t have all night to monologue to you. So let’s stop with the playing dumb, and get down to business. Okay? Okay.” 

He reaches into his pocket and tosses something at your feet. “I want you to use that phone and call your little crew. Tell them where you are. Tell them I want my truck back along with interest for each of the men they killed. I want it brought here in the next twenty minutes or else things might get a little messy.”

You don’t move to touch the phone, mostly because you’re afraid of moving when they didn’t want you to. His words send shivers down your spine and leave a strange taste in your mouth. How...how were you going to get out of here?

Lenox watches your struggling expression with sick delight. “Oh would you look at that. She might actually have morals and loyalty, huh boys?” His tone darkens and his words turn to you. “Funny how criminals like you still feel fear.”

He faces away, checking his watch. “Time is ticking, love.”

“I- I seriously have no idea what you’re talking about!” You finally insist. This was beyond the point of fucked. You had no back up, nobody even knew you were here. You had to figure this out before something happened.

“The Fakes took me hostage right before they stole whatever you’re saying they stole!” You begin, “I have no idea what van you’re talking about-”

“I feel like you’re not understanding the gravity of the situation.” He interrupts, unamused. He leans forward, hands tightening into fists at his sides. “I don’t care about your ‘terms and services’ with your crew. I don’t care about whatever they’ve done to you. At least, I’m being honest and not the one playing stupid. I’m a gentleman like that. And because I don’t think you quite get it yet, I’m going to prove to you how serious I am.” 

He pulls out his phone, punches in a few things, glancing at you in the meanwhile, before tapping one last thing and looking up. 

“You and your friends think you’re invincible. You kill my crew members- my family- and expect to get away with it? Well, let’s change that...”

All the air in your body escapes at his next words.

“You might not know where the van is, but I do. I know it’s in the city. I know it’s next to an apartment building on the intersection of Integrity Way and Alta Street. Could this possibly be a safe house? Hm…I wonder what would happen if say, my guys were to have put a bomb on the van shortly before you stole it?”

His expression suddenly turns grim, his brittle anger starting to show. “You now have five minutes to tell the crew to bring me my property or else,” he puffs out his cheeks and threw out his hands dramatically, making an explosion noise deep within his throat.

Your knees were beginning to shake but you pay no mind. _Integrity Way_. That was the street the penthouse was on. Which must mean...whatever this van is...it was in the garage! If a car bomb went off-! 

The image of the building going up in flames appears like a scene from a movie in your mind. All you could see is fire. The sound of screams and sirens... 

There would be hundreds of casualties. 

Lenox squints his eyes. The lines on his face darken and a scowl appears before his hardened voice echoed throughout the room. 

“That is, unless you get every cent, every goddamn piece of my fucking property to me. Do we have an understanding, Officer (L/N)?” He growls, looking almost disgusted at your form. Then he shakes his head. 

“Don’t make this difficult.” He warns. “I would hate to be responsible for spilling your blood. But I think I would hate it more to have actual innocent lives on my hands because of you. Call the crew. Or let them go up in flames. The choice is yours.” 

The sound of his leather jacket shatters the tense silence after the threat as he makes his way to a back door. Before his hand fell upon the knob, your voice grumbled something that makes him pause. He looks back at you. “Excuse me?”

You stare down at the floor, tears already brimming your eyes. “I don’t-…I-I can’t-!”

His expression didn’t change. 

“Shoot her.”

You gasp inwardly as a deafening shot rang out across the room. You flinch, ducking as warm splatter sprayed over you! A heavy thud is heard and you snap your head back to look, only to quickly regret it once you find where the spray had come from.

“SNIPER!” Somebody screams before their voice is quickly cut off as well.

You duck, arms now covering the top of your head as you hit the deck! The barn suddenly turns into a frenzy and you hear gunfire coming from every direction! 

“There! Outside on the water tower!” The female from before shouts!

You peek up to the tower behind the open doors you had come in from, the moonlight illuminating a dark form duck behind some armor plating on the rails of the tower. 

A distraction!

You quickly stand to your feet, searching around for a weapon- anything to use to defend yourself! You first spot the phone on the floor and, unsure why, you make a dive for it! You snatch it from the ground before turning around to find the crumbled corpse of the gang member who first held you at gunpoint. A clear bullet wound had ripped his skull and skin apart at the temple, blood was already leaking out. 

The sight itself made you want to vomit but you try to ignore the instinct to do so, instead reaching down and grabbing his carbine. When you stand, you let out a shriek and duck just in time to miss an attempted hit by one of the other gang members! The man holds his weapon like a bat and takes another swing at you! You duck that one as well, eyes suddenly flashing to the back door where you spot Lenox making his escape!

Your gazes connect for a split second and it seems like time freezes in that one moment. In an instant, you could already tell by the way he looked at you...

This was not the last you would see of him.

And with a snap of a finger, the contact was broken, and he had already fled with his partner out the door. And you returned to your fight. 

With one swoop, you quickly flick off the safety and let loose on the trigger! The man falls without any resistance other than a pained scream. Once taken care of, you back away, tossing the gun to the floor and making a break for some of the crates for shelter. The sniper fire had returned and it appeared to be covering for you in a way.The shots are well timed, unpredictable and quick. Whoever it was knew exactly what they were doing.

“Fucking hell-!” You curse, ducking shards of wood as the crate was ripped through by a bullet! 

Lenox already escaped and the crew- You needed to get out and warn them! 

You count the shots.

One...Two...Three!

You take your chance, bolting from the cover! You hear the ricochets of bullets pop close by as the surviving biker members shift their attention toward you, shouts directed towards your adrenaline-driven scurry to the exit! Wood from the stalls become no more than projectile splinters as you rush pass! 

The sniper fire increases almost desperately, trying to distract the others from you. You hover low but move quickly out of the building.

The wide open space is a relief but only short lived. You run and run and continue running until you reach the spot where you had left the motorcycle. You immediately hop on, not bothering with the helmet, and crank it up. Ripping down the throttle and shifting up the gears, you fly out of the dirt lot and onto a side road! 

_I need to warn them_ , your mind screams, _I need to tell them they’re in danger!_

You pull out your cell phone and awkwardly speed dial the penthouse number Ryan gave you while trying to maintain balance and speed. 

_Ring_

_Ring_

_Ring-_

“Hello?”

“Geoff! Geoff, it’s (F/N)! You’re in danger!”

“What? (F/N), is that you? How did you get this number?” He sounded like he had just woken up.

You narrowly avoid hitting a tree as you cut across the grass and spit off onto the highway, almost colliding with an eighteen-wheeler in the process! The driver blares his horn but you force yourself to keep going. 

“What was that? (F/N), where are you?” Geoff demands, now sounding much more awake.

“It-It’s a long story- Look that’s not important right now! Where are you guys? Is everyone at the apartment?”

The phone makes a noise and you thought he had hung up until you hear the soft but firm, concerned voice.

“(F/N)? What’s going on?” 

“Jack, listen to me, there is a bomb on the truck! Whatever you guys stole from the motorcycle crew- it’s got a bomb! It’s going to go off within the next five minutes- you guys need to get out of there!”

Suddenly you hear shouting in the background of the phone call. Jack yells to Geoff who in turn must be yelling to his crew. She returns to the phone.

“Where is the bomb? What kind is it?”

“I-I don’t know!” You swerve to avoid a blue minivan as you cross under a bridge. “They just said they put a bomb on the truck. They- they didn’t say where.”

“Who? Who said this?” Wind in the phone told you she was moving quickly wherever she was. A door slammed. Her voice is tense- almost angry from your delayed response. “Who said this? Who told you this?

You gas the throttle harder, really wishing you hadn’t gotten yourself into this mess. 

“I…Look I’ll be the first to admit I really fucked up! Those guys from the last mission we did- they contacted me again and told me to meet them- the-the Dawn Raiders or something- and I swear I was going to just try to observe them but-!” 

“God damn it!” Jack cries! “You idiot! How could you have been so stupid!?”

You flinch at the intensity of her rage. But then again she had every damn right to be mad. Your careless actions put the lives of the entire street at risk!

“Are you guys out of the building yet?” You press, trying to turn the attention away and focus on the matter at hand. 

“I’m in the garage now with the others.” You could still hear the annoyance in her voice. “We can’t find anything. Michael and Jeremy are checking out the truck. There’s nothing there.”

“Keep looking! I’m halfway to the penthouse. There’s got to be something! Check everything- other cars or bikes- anything!”

You shift up to fifth gear and gas the throttle harder, the engine roaring loudly in protest. The wind whips your hair against your forehead. You lean forward, seeing the red line on the speedometer begin to move up. You needed to move faster! You needed to get back to the crew!

You repeat what Lenox had told you in your head, trying to see if you missed something. As you continue your weaving in and out of traffic, you hear the line get quiet. Then,

“(F/N), there’s nothing here. The boys have checked the truck twice over and Geoff can’t find anything on the cars.” A pause. “Everything is accounted for. The only thing missing is the bike I loaned you.”

You open your mouth to ask what she means when you suddenly freeze. The throttle eases in your hand and you groan. 

“Fuck my life.” You mutter, reaching under the frame and feeling the plastic and metal texture of a foreign object resting just under the seat. 

“(F/N)?”

“Jack…I found the bomb.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this! Writing this chapter has been so much fun! Ahh! I love action. If I'm still riding my writing-high later tonight or this week, expect the next chapter to come out very soon. I'll try not to leave you guys on a cliffhanger again. 
> 
> Also, if you guys would like some more delicate fluff/mystery centered writing, check out my other story "Moon Ball". I think you might like it too!
> 
> Anyway, enjoy this chapter and thank you for all the kudos, comments, and more! You guys rock!


	20. The Midnight Rider

Curses spew from your mouth and you punch your leg angrily in protest! The bike wobbles from the movement.

“Fucking hell!” You scream as you return to the handlebar to steady it out, “The bomb is on the bike! I’m the bomb!”

Shouting. That's the only way you could describe it. 

The others begin frantically calling orders to one another in the background of the phone. Strangely enough, you barely even notice it. The wind is starting to pick up, roaring in your ears as your eyes flicker about the road. What the hell were you going to do?! How did you not see this coming?!

You shake your head. Hard. _Idiot!_ Lenox and his men must have been buying time! While they had you at gunpoint in the barn, part of the gang must have snuck out front and strapped the device on!

Your breathing hitches and you feel yourself start to shake. If...If the bomb was timed...how long did you have until it went off? 

No! No don’t think like that! Don’t let the panic into your chest! 

But then again...

There’s a bomb under your seat. 

_How could you not panic?_

“What should I do?!” You cry!

There’s crackling on the line and a male’s voice begins speaking.

“(F/N), I need you to describe the bomb for me-”

“Michael?”

“Of course, you dipshit! Now tell me what the bomb looks like!”

You’re still zooming down the highway. Tucking the phone against your ear with your shoulder, you reach down and feel over the device.

“It’s under the seat- I can’t see it. But it feels- I don’t know- plastic-y? It’s square and...There’s wires all over one side. An antenna?”

“Fuck, okay.” He gasps, “Do me a favor. Go ahead and feel where the wires are leading to.”

You do.

“They go into the neck of the seat.”

“Shit.”

Your stomach drops at his plain answer. Your hands are growing clammy.

“Michael, what does that mean?” You demand in a shrill voice, “Should I get off the bike?”

“NO! No don’t get off that bike! Don’t stop!”

The volume of his scream makes you flinch. 

“Why?” You ask, “What’s going on? What is it?”

But Michael isn’t listening. He’s shouting to someone else, telling them to move fast. When he returns to the call, his voice is firm.

“You need to turn around and go to Trevor’s airfield. Now.” 

“Turn around? Are you insane? I’m moving eighty miles per hour on a motorcycle!”

“That bomb is going to go off regardless of if you do or don’t! Get to the airfield! Jeremy and Ryan are already on their way to get you. But until then, do not get off that bike!” 

The mention of both names should’ve made you tense. Or at least react in some way. But you don’t. You’re already paralyzed to the seat, mind playing a million different responses all to the same question. 

What is Michael not telling you? Just what does this device do?

You swallow, a new type of dread filling your core. 

“Fine,” you groan, “How do I get to this airfield?”

There’s more shuffling before a new voice comes on.

“Can you hear me, love? I’m going to pull you up on GPS and lead you there, okay?” There’s the sound of vigorous clicking on a keyboard. Then a pause, “I need you to name the next sign you pass.”

You look up just as a sign goes sailing over your head. You curse. “I just missed one!”

“That’s okay! Just tell me the next one.”

You spot an upcoming green sign beside the road. You squint as you fly past, reading off the road name.

There’s more clicking of a keyboard. Then, “Got you! Okay, looks like there’s going to be an exit ramp coming up really soon. Take it! I’ll continue to direct you from there.”

You follow his instructions, weaving in and out of startled traffic-goers as you fly down the exit ramp!

"Take the next right!" He calls!

Gavin continues to list off directions, taking you down various narrowly constructed roads and shortcuts until you finally arrive at the strip. You breathe a small sigh of relief. You made it in one piece but this was still far from over. You bring the phone back up to your ear. 

“I’m here!” You tell him, “Now what!”

“Just drive down it! Ryan and Jeremy should be there any-”

A familiar black and green car jumps onto the track, spitting dirt in every direction! It’s headlights sweep over you in an instant and the engine groans as it shifts into a higher gear. The tires screech against the sandy pavement as it pulls a ninety degree turn to face your direction. 

“(F/N)!”

You look over your shoulder to see a figure hovering halfway out the passenger side window. The sports car quickly catches up and pulls along your side. Jeremy stretches out one hand to you, the other holding himself in. 

“(F/N), jump!” He shouts!

“What?! Are you crazy?!” You cry back, staring at him in complete shock!

“We don’t have time for this! You need to jump! I’ll catch you!” 

“You’re insane!”

Jeremy growls, lashing out an arm to grab you! You instinctively swing out of the way.

“Stop that!” You cry!

“I’m trying to save you, moron! The bomb is connected to your seat- it’s going to blow the moment you get off!”

“Then why am I jumping?! That seems like a bad idea!!”

Your chest starts to grow heavy and you notice your vision starting to grow blurred. You close your eyes and shake your head in an attempt to make it go away. But when you open them again, it only becomes worse. Your breathing turns to the likes of panting as a sense of terror washes over your body. Is that the wind caught in your ears again or was everything starting to become white noise? 

The motorcycle starts to sway under you as if to answer. Jeremy notices.

“Hey! Hey, look at me!” He waves his hand again, “Don’t focus on the bike! I’m going to catch you! I promise! I won’t let you go!”

“Just fucking jump already, (F/N)! We’re running out of track!” Ryan angrily shouts from inside the car! 

You look up, feeling your heart sink when you realize he’s right. There was less than a quarter of the track left!

You flash your gaze back to your crew member. He stretches his arms open again, expression pleading for you to do something! You only stare back through petrified eyes. 

_The track is about to end..._

**Twenty feet away...**

_There's no time..._

**Ten feet away...**

_I can't..._

**Five feet away...**

_**I’m going to die.**_

Just as you close your eyes to accept your fate, there's a heavy curse! Suddenly the breath is knocked from your lungs!

You’re hit in the side, the force sending you flying from the seat! A scream makes it halfway out your lungs before your head suddenly slams back against the cement ground and cuts it short! 

Everything after that is just a blur of colors mixed with extreme pain. Your body continues to roll and tumble without any sort of control! Your bare arms are met with the equivalent of a saw blade and sandpaper as it skids against the stone, tearing your flesh!

There’s suddenly beeping. It's coming from the crashing motorcycle in front of you! And it gets faster. And faster!

And then you feel nothing at all. 

You’re hovering in the air, flying high over the sandbank! The beeping picks up speed. Increasing until,

BOOM!

The bomb goes off! The vibrations shake the ground furiously as the bike erupts in a gigantic fireball! You don’t even get to let out a cry as you go tumbling straight into the explosion!

The fire consumes you whole. You're hit with multiple shards of burning metal as they puncture through your clothes and into your arms, legs, and chest! The sand explodes into shades of fiery reds and yellows and you squeeze your eyes shut! You didn’t want to see what was going to happen next.

The impact of your landing was enough to knock you out momentarily. You know you finally came to a stop but the next thing you actually remember is opening your eyes to see the remains of the flaming motorcycle just feet away from your body. The fire licks it hungerly. 

And you begin to scream. 

You scream as loud as you can! And you continue to scream even as screeching tires fill the air. Somewhere in the background a car door is thrown open accompanied by running footsteps. 

But there's so much pain that you can't focus on it! It hurts so much!

A groan from somewhere beside you alerts you to another presence. You turn, propping yourself onto your elbows. You clutch your stomach as you spot the person who knocked you from the bike down in the ditch beside you. 

“Jer-?” You try to speak but something gets caught in your throat. You try to cough it out but the pain only seems to get worse. You cough harder. Something dark lands on the ground. 

Jeremy lifts his head, eyes locking on you within a second. 

“(F-F/N)..” he groans, shakily lifting himself on his hands and knees and crawls over to you.

He props himself partly on top of you, dropping down and immediately reaching out a hand to your cheek. You limply push it away, continuing to try and clear your airway but it hurts too much. Everything hurts. More dark liquid lands on the ground. 

The only light illuminating your two forms is the fire that still blazes over the sand. Jeremy carefully rolls you over and pushes your back against the ground. He places both of his hands against your side and applies pressure, eliciting a loud scream from you. You try to thrash but it’s only brought with more pain. You instead reach up desperately to his face and grab a tuft of the loose hair behind his ear. He winces but holds firm. 

“You’re going to be okay. You’re going to be okay,” he continues to repeat breathlessly.

“Jeremy?! (F/N)?!” A deeper voice begins shouting close by, “Where are you?!”

“Down here!” Jeremy weakly calls back, turning to look as Ryan drops into the sand beside you. The masked man immediately observes the scene before him, scanning over his partner first before turning to you. 

You can’t breathe at all now. You attempt to frantically point to your throat with your other hand but it refuses to move.

It burns. It burns so much worse than just a normal burn. 

Ryan’s eyes quickly trail down to said hand and you see him inwardly wince from inside the skull mask. 

You continue uncontrollably retching. Jeremy flashes a look at his crew member. He removes your hand from his hair and holds it tightly in his hand instead. 

“What do we do?!”

“I-I don’t know-” the other stutters.

The sight of the Los Santos sky fills your vision. The blackness of the void stares straight back at you. It's mocking you. The lack of oxygen starts to take over. Everything is on fire. Your lungs burn. Your hand burns. Your entire body felt like it's still being consumed by the flames from the explosion! And you lay there, gasping, your fear soon turning to the absence of any emotion at all. You're shutting down.

This is happening…

You’re suffocating to death.

And even though the two men attempt to keep you awake, you can’t help it.

You shut your eyes.

And you accept your fate. 

***

You gasp, head snapping up as a rush of fresh air enters your lungs! You jump to sit up but the action is instantly met with regret! You hunch halfway through, turning your head to the side and coughing hard, a large lump of something wet and sticky exploding from your throat. It lands on the ground with a sick thwap. You continue to pant, feeling the air rush in and out of your body. 

Above you, a figure wipes their mouth before pulling something back over his face. You blink your eyes, the blurs from before coming back into focus. There’s suddenly pressure on the side of your neck. 

“Pulse is steady!”

“Jeremy?” You whisper as you recognize the voice. You cough a few more times until your airway is officially clear. Everything tastes like metal. 

A pair of hands help you into a proper sitting position where you reach up to wipe your lips. When you pull away, you’re surprised to find not just red, but white and black as well. You blink in confusion. 

Sirens sound in the distance. 

“They’re coming,” Ryan suddenly warns, “We need to move. Think you can walk?”

Jeremy glances up at him then back to you. “I’ll be fine. Just help me lift her to the car.”

Hands slip under your shoulders and knees and lift you from the ditch. You sink into their grips, a low whine from the pain making its way from your throat. The two quickly carry your body out of the sand and across the pavement to the waiting car. They put down the passenger seat and slide you in the back before hopping in themselves. 

The sirens have gotten much closer now.

“They’re going to see us!” Jeremy yells, watching out the window. Blue and red lights begin to flash in the mirrors.

“Like hell.” Ryan grunts.

The engine roars back to life and without warning, Ryan pounds the gas pedal. You fall against the back of the seat as the vehicle lurches forward! 

The car rocks and flies and hits the ground at velocity speed without rest! But the most you can do is lay back and pray. You attempt to reach up to grab something- anything! But when you do, you freeze. You stare at your wrist, only finding something that resembled nothing more than a mangled and bloody mess. 

The shock doesn’t even hit yet. You narrow your eyes at it more confused than anything.

Your hand is still there. But you couldn’t feel it. And was that bone?

Your eyes move up to the ceiling. 

You... were alive. Somehow.

A wet seep of something warm washes over your back and it’s then that you really smell the iron in the air. You let out a small noise, causing Jeremy to look back at you worriedly from the passenger seat. You notice that he’s holding his forehead.

“I...I’m so sorry…” You manage out through a hoarse voice. His frown grows.

“Don’t worry about that right now. Everything is going to be okay.”

“No...I mean...I think I opened my stitches...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops, my hand slipped.
> 
> And a special shout out to all of you! We reached over 1000 views and over 100 Kudos from when the last chapter was published until now. I am so freaking thankful! You have no idea! I was literally showing all of my friends this achievement that you guys have given me. I hope to continue to deliver to all of you who love and support this story. 
> 
> This chapter itself was fun to write even though it was admittedly a little short. I had to cut it in half between this and the next one or else the OG Chap. 20 would have been over 5,000 words. I ain't about to do that to you guys. As for Chap. 21, if you prod me enough I'll probably get it out either tomorrow or the day after hahaha. It's done written-wise, I just need to edit. 
> 
> Again, thank you to everyone who left a Kudo or comment or anything else, you rock and you matter to me. I love when you guys get so involved with theories and whitty comments, like, it seriously makes my week.


	21. The Interrogation

The next time you open your eyes, the car is already parked in the garage and Jeremy is hovering over you. You wince as he taps your cheek lightly.

“Hey, still with us?”

His voice sounds drained. Empty.

You nod stiffly.

He sighs in relief and reaches back, grabbing you carefully and pulling you from the car. You slide out with no resistance, your blood acting as a slick surface for your body. Jeremy sees the blood but doesn’t react. He adjusts you into a bride style position in his arms before starting forward. About halfway to the elevator, his leg suddenly gives out under him. He stumbles before muttering under his breath and lowering you down.

“I can’t carry you. You’re going to need to stand.”

You nod, shakily testing your feet on the ground. Jeremy helps hold you partly up. Together, you move in sync towards the elevator where Ryan is already waiting beside a gurney. He looks up from his conversation with Geoff when he hears you let out a whine and hurries to your side. He takes your other arm and assists you onto the stretcher. You breathe heavily. 

Jeremy starts to say something when a shadow suddenly falls over you. You look up, seeing only the flash of a palm before it strikes you directly across the face.

“Hey-!” Ryan shouts angrily in the background!

The blow vibrates through your body and when you look up at your assailant, you’re already trembling. Eyes wide, you watch Geoff hold up his other hand to silence the crew members. He glowers down at you. 

“Gavin, what’s Trevor’s status?” He mutters to the boy to his right. Gavin hesitantly looks down at his phone.

“He um...He says he’ll be here momentarily.”

“Good. Tell him to examine Jeremy first thing when he gets here. He can join us upstairs for (F/N) when he’s done. Jack,” he points to the female standing off to the side, “bring her to the meeting room.”

Jeremy and Ryan both gape at their leader.

“The meeting room?” Jeremy demands, his hands immediately tightening around the gurney to prevent Jack from taking it. “Why not the infirmary?”

“Geoff, even I have to agree that’s a little much.” Ryan speaks up, “She’s could be bleeding ou-”

“The meeting room!” Geoff stresses, clear that this was not up for debate. “She got herself into this mess so she can survive five minutes of interrogation while he checks on your injuries!” 

The room falls silent. 

Jeremy looks down at you, eyes flickering to your hand before giving a heavy swallow and letting the stretcher go. It’s then that you notice the long, fresh cut across the right side of his face. And there’s blood all over his pants leg.

Jack moves over to you. She lightly grabs your shoulders and pulls you back so you’re laying down on the stretcher. She then wheels it to the elevator, passing the other members in the process. You look up at their faces warily. If their expressions said anything..

Tonight was only going to get worse.

The elevator doors stretch open and Jack pulls you inside. She has to squeeze in beside the wall to fit. The doors slide shut.

As the elevator rises, you catch Jack glaring at you furiously. Guilt fills your numbing body.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize softly, “I didn’t mean to let your bike explode.”

Her form stiffens and she stares at you now with an expression akin to shock.

“What? Seriously? _That’s_ what you think you need to be apologizing for right now!? That’s what you think we’re mad about?!”

You don’t answer. 

The elevator doors chime as they open and Jack pushes you out. You’re wheeled down the hall to the penthouse door. There, she follows Geoff’s orders and brings you inside and straight to the meeting room. 

You’re set against the far wall. Jack then moves to the other side and grabs something from the desk. She returns with a handful of wet wipes. Neither of you speak as she begins to clean the blood from your face.

You take the moment to glance down at your injured hand, now able to get a better look at it in the light. Trying to move it does nothing, as well as attempting to wiggle your fingers. All you can feel is a sensation of fire. A nub of white can be seen through the side, jutting out of the skin. You hold in the urge to panic. 

_Just broken_ , you tell yourself. _Please just let it be broken_.

Jack lifts your head so you stare up at her face instead. She begins to clean around your eyes and nose. It's clear that she's still fuming under the surface but there was a certain level of tenderness as she gently wipes away the blood dried to your forehead. She sighs.

“Still not as reckless as our boys but...Somehow I’m just as upset.”

You weren’t sure you understood. You try to find something else to look at, something that wouldn’t make you start tearing up too. Your gaze falls on the planning board to the side. More specifically, on all the new pages littering the surface. Red circles are drawn all over the map, like a child had gotten too excited and began scribbling wherever they could; drawing lines, connecting dots, writing little notes...This must’ve been what Jack and Geoff were working on last night. 

The sound of the office door opening breaks your attention. You peek over. Geoff comes in rubbing his hands on a red-stained towel. He’s accompanied by a familiar face. 

Trevor spots you on the gurney instantly and makes a b-line in your direction. Jack steps out of the way and over to Geoff while Trevor sets down a large messenger bag on the table beside you. 

“Jesus,” he mutters as he eyes you over. “You sure got the brunt of the fall, didn’t you?”

He turns and flips up the top of his bag, producing a medical kit like the one he had at the hospital, “So what hurts the most?” 

“It hurts to breathe and I can’t feel my wrist.” You admit quietly. “And I think I opened my stitches too.”

He nods and reaches into the bag, producing a clear mask. He adjusts it over your mouth and nose before clicking a button to a small generator inside the bag. A puff of air hits your mouth.

“Just keep breathing that in okay?”

He moves to examine your arm next. He checks the wound, muttering medical terms under his breath. With a new wet wipe, he starts to mop up the blood. His fingers trail over your very swollen wrist. 

In the meantime, you raise your eyes to Geoff’s. He’s standing silently off to the side with his arms crossed. He looks pissed. Your eyes fall to the ground.

“I’m sorr-”

“You should be!” He scolds, his voice raising several octaves, “What the hell were you even thinking?!” 

“I-I thought if I could deal with them, they’d get off our backs-”

“Well you were wrong!” He cries! “This little stunt of yours is only going to make matters worse!”

From the desk, you see Jack cross her arms as well. She faces her partner.

“So then what’s the plan?”

He doesn’t answer her, too lost in his own thoughts. Just by watching, you’re surprised to see the crew leader acting so...nervous? No...Anxious? Flustered. He looked flustered.

“You need to tell me everything about what happened tonight.” He says as he turns to you, “If I find you left even the smallest detail out, I will not hesitate to have my boys- have them- have them do something really bad to you!”

And so the interrogation began. And it kept going for...you don’t even know how long. Geoff makes you recount every step you took. Every little word you said, and then some. And you answer honestly, trying to give the best descriptions you can. You start with how the MC crew texted you, to how you snuck off from Ryan, stole the bike, excetera excetera.

As you do, Trevor continues his examination and patch work. He's moved from your hand to now picking out small shards of debris poking through your skin. It's overwhelmingly painful but it feels so much better once it's out. 

It's when you get to the part about Lenox wanting you to call the crew that you remember the device in your pocket. Pulling away from Trevor, you reach back into your pocket with your non-injured hand. You’re relieved to find it still in one piece as you pull it out. You hand it to Geoff.

“This is the phone he gave me to call you,” You tell him, “I don’t know why I grabbed it when everything went to hell but...Here. Maybe there’s something on it.”

Geoff takes the phone and inspects it. He then walks to the door. Poking his head out of the room, he shouts for Gavin who appears a few seconds later. Geoff hands him the device. 

“Take this and run a scan. Make sure there aren’t any tracers on it.”

The boy nods and you catch him glancing over Geoff’s shoulder at you. You offer a quick, forced smile but he doesn’t return it. 

Geoff closes the door and moves back to you.

“So what happened next?”

“I refused. He told the others to shoot me. But right as the man behind me was taking aim...he was shot.”

“By who?” Jack asks.

You turn to look at her. “I don’t know. A sniper of some sort. He was hiding on the water tower outside.”

The two crew members share a glance.

You continue on to explain how he seemed to be covering your escape, “He was good too, a professional of some sort if I had to guess. But I didn’t get a good look at him- he was hiding in the shadows. And I don’t know what happened to him after I left.” 

Jack holds a hand to her mouth thoughtfully. “Hm...What do you make of this, Geoff?” 

The other doesn’t respond as quickly. In fact, he doesn’t reply at all. His gaze is locked on yours but it’s hazy. He looked worried. 

Beside you, Trevor had moved from pulling debris to tightening something around your injured wrist. You peer down to see a wrapped cloth around your hand. He takes the silence as an opportunity to speak.

“Forgive me but I’m going to have to reset this manually.”

Before you can ask what he means, he places both hands on your wrist and pushes. Hard.

All sense of feeling in your hand returns in a flash and a loud scream bursts from your mouth as the bone is pushed back into place! You scream and shout and attempt to wiggle away but he positions himself in a way that prevents this. He unwraps the cloth to check his work. There’s a decent amount of blood. He nods. 

“There you go, the hard part is over.”

But you’re still flinging every curse in the books and then some.

“You motherfucking piece of shit! Aren’t you supposed to do that with anesthesia?!”

He looks like he suddenly remembers something. 

While you continue spouting your rage, Geoff moves over to Jack and sits back beside her on the desk while they watch. Jack lowers her voice.

“I still don’t understand. How did this guy know where the van was? There aren’t any trackers- we checked.”

He nods. “I know, I know. The dude knew the exact location. How?”

“Is it possible someone followed you and Michael here?”

“No...No I don’t think it’s that…”

Jack blinks a few times before turning to him, “You don’t think it was an inside job, do you?”

Geoff throws up his hands, “I don’t know what to think right now! All I know is that we need to keep our eyes on little Ms. Impulse here. The last thing we need is another close-call.” 

“And what about this sniper? Maybe we aren’t the only ones this motorcycle crew has targeted? I mean, a trained sniper who just happens to be there too? She’s lucky she had someone to save her ass.”

“I doubt luck had anything to do with it.”

“What do you me-?”

“Are they going to kill me?” 

The two look over at you. You lower the clear mask from your mouth, your shouts quieting to small whines, "They going to kill me...Aren’t they...”

They share an uneasy look. Jack is the one to answer your question. 

“We need to look more into this crew before we assume anything. You said his name was Lenox, correct?”

You nod and she types something down on her phone, “I’ll have one of our partners do some research on him. For now, it’s probably best to keep to business as usual-”

“What? No!” You object, “Jack, he knows who I am! He knows my name. My job. He knows about my involvement with you guys! How could you think that we’ll be safe if he knows all this- and- and we don’t know a single thing about him besides his name? We can’t just pretend he’s not a problem!”

“We’re not.” Geoff speaks up, glaring. “If someone hadn’t ruined our attempts to quiet them ourselves, we wouldn’t have to be as cautious as we need to be now. We aren’t running away, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“...What?”

Geoff shakes his head. “I’m done for the night. I need to go call somebody. Trevor, fix her stupid injuries. Jack, call that stupid prick. I’m going for a drink.”

Jack tenses, surprised. “What? But Geoff-”

“A diet coke, Jack. I’m not desperate.”

She backs off but still frowns. 

Geoff then turns to the whiteboard. He drums his fingers against his leg for what felt like an eternity, staring at all the notes and scribbles. When he finally looks away, his expression has changed. He turns to you in particular and raises a pointed finger.

“You are under twenty-four-seven watch until I say otherwise. You promised to work with us and until I see that level of commitment again, you’re back to being our prisoner. Understood?”

You feel your world shatter and it takes everything not to cry. You nod.

Geoff drops his hand and looks to the ground. His voice becomes ice cold. 

“As for this motorcycle crew… _If these fuckers want a fight, it’s a fight they’ll get_.”


End file.
